#because my mum keeps calling my WINTER jumper a Christmas jumper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

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innocence - 24

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: i took three weeks to post, i am very sorry but i’ll now be posting the holiday chapters i was supposed to but i got lost in eating mince pies. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

- Bucky, what are you doing? - Y/N smirked as she returned from set, still dressed in a scandalous dress covered by a beige rain coat. Small droplets of water covered the beige waterproof fabric which rolled onto the ground as she made her way further into the small flat.

Bucky was sat in bed, looking at a pile of clothing thrown next to an open old military green rucksack by his feet. A few worn out brown leathered tags we attached to one of the handles and had she been wearing her glasses, she could’ve probably guessed what it was written on them. The brown haired man rose his head at the mention of his name, eyes widening at what she was wearing. He was used to seeing her in tight, revealing dresses but this dress was something else and he wondered how she could walk with such a skin tight garment.

- I’m just deciding what to pack. - he shrugged, trying to forget about the dress his girlfriend was wearing.

- Just pack warm. - she sat next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, an immediate smile extending in her limps. - Mum said it might snow. Can you imagine, a white Christmas?

- Did they give you a bad time on set?

A bad time? A bad time was an understatement. She had gotten an earful from everyone who passed by her that day from her manager to her personal assistant to even Mr. Hayworth who just screamed about how stupid she was. Even half the cast was upset, not enjoying the publicity it would bring to the movie and while she would normally end up crying in her trailer, Chuck ensured to follow her around to make sure she was alright. Yet, none of it matter. It was the last day of shooting before she got to go home to her parents and forget about the mess she had willingly created. It was only a day before she could spend the holidays with someone who chose her and kept choosing her for the first time. It really didn’t matter if she had a bad time, things were starting to look up for her.

- Other than the stripper dress? Not as bad. - she giggled. Bucky looked at her, trying to peak through the coat. - I was thinking ... maybe we should have a nice long bath together? I’ll light some candles, get some nice wine from the shop down the street.

- You little vixen, I still have to go see my sister. If I take a bath with you I will end up staying much more time than I should. - Bucky kissed the side of her face. - Did you wear that dress just to tempt me?

- I would never. It is not my fault you cannot control yourself.

- That dress is staying until I come back, though.

- I want to come. - she got up from the bed, pulling the dress from her body and grabbing her white jumper and pair of jeans from the wardrobe. - You’re meeting my family, it’s only fair I meet yours.

- I’ve told you already, princess. We don’t wanna poke the media, they’ll bite us back with no mercy. I don’t want people hurting you because of me.

- You can’t sneak me into a care home? My, my, Mr. Barnes, I thought you could get anyone into anywhere. Your CV said so.

- Are you doubting my abilities, princess? - he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closing to him before starting to tickle her sides. - It’ll be boring to you, my princess. Just stay here, put back that tight little dress and I’ll make it worth your time.

- No way. I’m meeting your sister.

- No baby pictures, Y/N.

- I would never. - she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hard felt yet soft kiss. - Only childhood stories.

Bucky rolled his eyes, handing her the jacket and hat as they made their way onto a taxi. Bucky visited his sister a lot but he’d never mentioned Y/N. Not that he didn’t want to, of course he did. In all honesty, he could speak about his girl for as long as someone allowed him. However, Y/N was still a public personality and he wouldn’t want to let something out that she wasn’t comfortable with people knowing. Besides, he knew how much his sister still adored to gossip and he wouldn’t want to possibly hurt Y/N or be the cause.

She, on the other hand, was excited. She knew Steve and Steve was the oldest of Bucky’s friends but she never thought she would get to meet someone from his family or that he’d even want to introduce her to someone from his family. After all, he was a war hero and Y/N was an actress from a small town in London who everyone seemed to despise at the moment.

The man drove them up to small complex building of what seemed to be newly built flats. Bucky was the first one off the taxi, running up to her side so he could open the door. It always left her feeling like a school girl; the pageantry, it is. She never believed she would find someone and the fact someone rushed to go and open the door for her and held his hand out.

- Anything you’d like to confess before I ask your sister? - Y/N teased, hugging him side eyes as he led her to the entrance.

- Do not believe what she says, I did not date too many girls.

- Steve disagrees with that.

- How would you know what Steve agrees or disagrees with?

- I called him to wish him happy holidays.

- I didn’t know you and Steve were friendly.

- Don’t be jealous, love. I’m not stealing your best friend. - Y/N pinched his cheek playfully as the two of them stopped in front of a wooden door with the number 35 in gold numbers pinned to it.

Bucky knocked on the door, announcing himself before holding Y/N once again close to him. He went through his mind, wondering if there was anything Rebecca could tell which would upset her. Sure, he used to be a bit of a womaniser in his youth but Y/N knew that. He hadn’t gotten anyone pregnant, he hadn’t proposed and ran off, he was off the hook. Still, he didn’t like the idea of Becca telling Y/N about his past quests.

Y/N waited patiently until someone held the door. The first thing she noticed were her eyes, the same as Bucky’s and she could recognise them anywhere. The woman had perfectly styled grey hair and a smile on her lips as she recognised her brother.

- Who is this lovely girl, Buck? You didn’t tell me you’d bring company, I would’ve gotten some biscuits.

- This is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend.

- Steve told me you were seeing someone, I just didn’t think she’d be this pretty. Come in, come in. - Becca grabbed Y/N away from Bucky leading her to the living room. - What you wanted is in the bedroom, Buck.

- Behave. - Bucky told his sister before he went into the bedroom to look for what he had come in from.

- I have some photos I think you’d love to see, darlin’. - she pointed the couch for Y/N to sit in before waddling to the big mahogany bookcase. She had a huge collection of books from old classics to new contemporary masterpieces which Y/N would love to read someday. The house itself was cozy, way more comfortable than other care homes she’d seen but she guessed Bucky would’ve only allowed for the best for his little sister. - It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of Bucky’s girlfriends. Not that he used to bring them home, but I used to sneak in and take a peak. You’re definitely the prettiest of all of them.

- Thank you. - Y/N couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heat up.

- Ah, there it is. - she dropped a photo album on Y/N’s lap. - My father gave my mother a photo camera and she went crazy with it. Too many photos. However, when Bucky was born, it was a special occasion. Dad used to say she wanted a professional photo taken with her Jamie.

She pointed at a photo of an woman probably in her early 20s holding a baby wrapped in several blankets, accompanied by a man who Bucky resembled very much. Her fingers traced the face of the baby, a little smile forming on her lips. It was nice to see him like that, normal. No mentions of the Winter Soldier, no pain, none of her constant drama due to her profession.

- He was the eldest of four and despite what my mother would say, he was always the favourite. The only boy. He got away with whatever he wanted.

- Bucky has three siblings?

- Three sisters. Some of them didn’t survive. It was war. - her voice softened with sadness as she turned the page for a photo that Y/N wasn’t expecting to see. The same woman from before, his mother, was hugging a shirtless Bucky who had some boxing gloves on. Her face contorted into curiosity as Bucky exited the room and leaned against the couch, standing next to the two women.

- What are you two ladies looking at? - Bucky kissed Y/N’s head, putting his hand on her shoulder.

- I think Y/N is very curious about your welterweight boxing past.

- You did boxing?

- Princess, I was a three-time YMCA Welterweight boxing champion. - Bucky closed the album before any of the photos of him with some of the ladies he used to hang around with showed up. - Becca, we should get going. We have an early flight tomorrow.

- You need to bring her more often. - Rebecca got up from the couch to accompany them to the door. - Did you find what you were looking for?

- Yes, Beccs. Thank you so much for keeping it all these years.

- Pretty sure mum would come back to haunt me if I hadn’t. Have fun meeting the parents. - she kissed Bucky’s cheek allowing for the two of them to leave. Bucky immediately wrapped his chunky knitted scarf, something his grandma had knitted for him ages ago, around Y/N’s neck, pulling her to his side.

He couldn’t truly remember a time where he was this happy, so full of need to continue living. She really brought him to this sort of weird normality where his past didn’t seem to affect him or at least not as strongly as it usually did. The two walked into grey skies, it was probably going to rain but none of them cared, walking side by side like those couples on Christmas songs.

- A boxing champion?

- Knock it off, princess. - Bucky helped her into the taxi, telling the driver his address before fastening his seat belt. - It was a long time ago.

- Do you miss her? - she questioned, leaning her head against his shoulder, watching the horizons run through in blurs. - Your mother. Rebecca said you were the favourite.

- Rebecca is always saying that. - he scoffed. - I do miss her. She was a swell lady, always caring about us, not complaining whenever she had to travel around because of my father. She was the best mother someone could’ve asked for. She would’ve liked you.

- You think so?

- I know so. Dad would’ve liked you too so would aunt Ida. Of course there’s still my nephews and nieces and their kids, but they don’t really want to speak with me ... - she didn’t need to ask why, she could see it in his eyes why and it made her sad. It made her sad to think of his family not wanting to be with him, specially during the holidays. - But I’ve had Rebecca and Steve for all these years. They’re my family and now I have you.

- Well, I can’t promise my family will like you but they’ll definitely found the fact I have a boyfriend amusing.

- You mean to tell me I don’t have any ex boyfriends I’ll have to fight once we get to London?

- That’s just unfair, Bucky. You’re a three-time boxing champion.

- You’ll never let that one go will you?

- Nope. Dating a three-time boxing champion is a new identity I can get used to.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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wolfstarlibrarian · 3 years

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do you know any roommate AUs'?

Friend! The Librarian was wondering when someone would send in this ask, so thank you! It’s a classic trope, and perfectly suited for Remus and Sirius who were roommates. There are a few previous lists below for those who enjoy some classic Hogwarts settings where they were roommates. Hope you enjoy this super long list (whoops), and thanks for the ask!

Long Wolfstar at Hogwarts Fics

Get to Know Wolfstar Fics

Wolfstar Roommates (omg they were roommates)

Unknown Pleasures by @kattlupin With the war intensifying around him Sirius starts to question what the point of all of this is. It just takes an Order mandated shelter-in-place with Remus and his kind words, magical plants, and good home cooked meals for Sirius to finally realize where his heart lies and that there are reasons to continue to fight.

Born Under Punches by @newsom

The truth is that he’s kept this love on the back burner of his heart for so many years that he’s grown accustomed to the smell and can sometimes almost ignore it completely. He likes to think he’s made peace with the fact that he’ll never know what it tastes like.

Gravity works slowly if you notice it at all by @maraudorable What does a wizard do when they can’t use magic to get out of a situation? They panic, make questionable decisions, and call their mum. And maybe kiss their best friend at the end.

Heat the Winter Floods by @daphnaea It was funny, Sirius thought, the things you could fail to learn about your best mate despite sharing a dormitory for seven years.

Only Around You by @catewip Remus Lupin can't stop the laughter that erupts from him when he returns home to find Sirius in the middle of absolute chaos. After Alice, as kind as ever, had sent him home from work early for his birthday, the last thing Remus had expected was to find his friend and flat in complete disarray. Aka, surprise party gone wrong and yet oh so right.

Hic sunt dracones by @aryastark-valarmorghulis Remus and Sirius try putting on makeup and end up trying a lot more: sex, kissing, and maybe even talking about feelings.

Drunk on Love by @museinabsentia Post second war AU in which Remus cheats at baking, Padfoot plays in the snow, and Christmas jumpers combined with mulled wine may lead to something old becoming something new.

Broken Windows by alittlebitAlexie Remus Lupin fancies his new neighbor Sirius Black but keeps embarrassing himself in front of him. This is what happens when Remus has to sleep on Sirius' couch for a few weeks.

The Things We'd Do For A Coffee Maker by AllThisAndLoveTooWillRuinUs In which to cover up a lie to Lily, Sirius and Remus have No Choice but to get fake married. “So what you’re saying is, you’re planning to marry Sirius for. . . fun?” “And for a coffee maker, yes.”

Impossible Things by @accioromulus Sirius’s thoughts are a slow-moving, impending disaster. How he wants to pin Remus up against the cupboards, to crowd him into a corner; how he wants to intertwine their fingers, to brush his lips against Remus’s forehead, his jaw. Instead, he settles for ducking his head and sliding a finger through the belt loop in Remus’s denim jeans—a ridiculous gesture so utterly intimate, even for the pair of them, that he only allows it because he’s just drunk enough. “Stop stealing my bloody clothes, Lupin.” He says, very quietly. Remus looks up at him, eyes dark, and murmurs pleasantly: “Better learn to do your own laundry then, Black. Consider it my fee.”

Rollerskate by @biremus 'You're a gold star fallen from its natural plane' Remus Lupin isn't ready for university at all. As if leaving his old friends behind wasn't enough, now he has to deal with lovesick teenagers, ridiculously overambitious pranks, University Challenge tryouts, and that one gorgeous boy who just won't leave him alone... Loosely based on Starter For Ten

Making It Work by darkestbliss In a last-minute arrangement, Sirius Black moves in with Remus Lupin.

Ocean of Fiction Blue -orphaned account Remus Lupin isn't sure what to make of his new flatshare situation. He's a quiet student with a past, who doesn't date and is determined to keep it that way. Then he meets his artist flatmate, Sirius Black and his entire world is turned upside down.

How Remus Got His Groove Back by @theprongsletthatlived After two years of noncommittal sex: Remus tells Sirius that he loves him. Sirius firmly rejects him. Remus tries to move on. Sirius is not happy. OR Remus Lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, Fabian Prewett writes a book, Gilderoy Lockhart is a catfish, and Sirius Black realizes he's a fucking idiot.

Elucidation Practice by @montpahrnah Christmas, 1978. Remus, wrestling with the mighty problems of gift-giving on a budget, contemplates life, love, London in winter, and falling off the edge of the world with Sirius Black.

Domestic Creatures by @veeagainsttheday Growing up is hard to do -- but the journey is better if you take someone with you.

No Mum, He Really Is My Boyfriend by showmeyourtardis If Remus has to go on one more date set up by his mother, he will maul his own face off. It was nothing against the boys, they were... Well, they were horribly dull, but it was mostly the werewolf thing. So when an escape plan, in the form of Sirius Black, presents itself, Remus is more than happy to take it.

#omg they were roommates #roommates #wolfstar #remus x sirius #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black

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engie-ivy · 3 years

Text

Sorry, I'm behind on schedule now for @remus-john-lupin Wolfstar Holiday Prompt list😅

13: Blizzard

Wish I'd known before you left me

Winter in America - Doug Ashdown

Remus’ flight is delayed and he has to go back to what used to be his and Sirius’ flat. Like saying goodbye once wasn't hard enough.

“I’m very sorry sir, but no airline will risk flying through this horrible blizzard. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it on the news.” Right, the muggle news. Remus should’ve checked the muggle news before leaving. The girl behind the desk scrolls through her computer screen. “All flights have been delayed. The best I can do is book you a seat on a flight scheduled for tomorrow.”

Remus sighs. “Well, if that’s the only option…”

The girl gives him a sympathetic smile. “Do you need help finding a place to stay for the night?”

Remus shakes his head. “No thank you. I’m fine. I live in London.” Used to live in London.

As Remus makes his way out of the airport, he almost wishes he had asked for a hotel, instead of going back to his flat. Sirius’ flat. Saying goodbye to Sirius had been heart-wrenching, and now he’d come home, Sirius’ home, not his anymore, only to say goodbye again tomorrow…

A bitter laugh escapes Remus. Such a cruel twist would be just his luck.

Remus gets in a taxi. He could’ve just apparated, but he needs a moment to calm his mind before facing Sirius again. He thinks back to their last conversation.

“Everything’s packed. Well, except for that green jumper I can’t seem to find. The plane leaves in just a few hours, so I’ll be going to the airport soon.”

“You don’t have to do this, Moony.”

“I know. But I want to. It’s a chance for me to be useful.”

“You can be useful here!”

“How, Padfoot? You’re going to be a Healer, Prongs is going to be an Auror, while I can’t even keep a job moving boxes!”

“That still doesn’t mean you should allow them to use you as a bloody guinea pig!”

“The research team in Boston is making vast progress. They say Damocles Belby is well on his way to a breakthrough! If I can help with a cure, or even the hope of a cure, don’t I owe it to-”

“You don’t owe anybody a damn thing! Just because you have this condition doesn’t mean others should be allowed to use you for whatever they want.”

“I’m not doing it for them. I’m doing it for others like me. They can test their potions on me if it means others will eventually have a safe cure.”

“Is it really worth it, though? Leaving your family, leaving your friends, leaving- And you don’t know when, or if, you’ll come back…”

“I’m not only making sacrifices. They’re offering me a place to stay and they’ll pay me some money.”

“Stop that. I hate it when you do that. Talk like you should be grateful that they’re willing to give you something in return, while you’re leaving your entire life behind and risking your health to be their test subject!”

“Most people don’t think a werewolf deserves even that courtesy.”

“Most people are idiots.”

“In any case, I can’t keep living off of yours and Prongs’ pocket.”

“You’re not-“

“Oh please, Sirius. I’m not dumb. I know that the rent you’re asking me to pay isn’t even twenty percent of what this place actually costs. And I know that I’m not constantly forgetting I still had some galleons in my coat pocket.”

“We don’t mind, Moony.”

“But I do.”

“I wish you could stay for Christmas at least.”

“Me too. But the subsidy provider demands they start the testing phase this year, so they want to get started before the Holidays.”

“It won’t be the same without you, Moony. I… I’m going to miss you.”

“I really am sorry, Sirius.”

Remus stares out of the taxi’s window at the snowflakes slowly falling. Walking away from that flat, walking away from Sirius, had been the hardest thing he’s ever done. He wonders how he’ll find the strength to do it again tomorrow. As he was walking away, suitcase in hand, Sirius had called after him. Remus had turned around, and Sirius had been standing in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. Remus had half-hoped Sirius would ask him one more time to stay. Remus had half-hoped this time he’d give in. But Sirius had shaken his head, and the moment had been gone. “Have a safe flight, Moony,” was all he had said.

Sirius is an important reason why it’s so hard for Remus to leave. Sirius is also an important reason why Remus has to leave. Remus is in love with Sirius. The feelings came when he was fifteen. At first, he tried to make them go away, but after nights of crawling into Sirius’ arms after a nightmare, mornings of waking up with Sirius’ hand in his after a rough full moon, and evenings of falling asleep with his head on Sirius’ shoulder, he had come to accept that loving Sirius would be a permanent part of his life.

Remus never forgets what he is, though. With his lycanthropy, Remus is condemned to a life of poverty, prejudice, stigma and danger. He can’t drag another person into that, especially someone who deserves as much as Sirius. But he hadn’t expected how different being flat mates would be from being dorm mates. It feels so domestic sometimes, and Remus can’t help having these thoughts. What if? What if this could be more than a fantasy? What if we lived in a different world? A world where I’m not a werewolf? A world where I’m not afraid to love him, or let him love me? It’s pointless thinking. They don’t live in a different world and he is a werewolf. And besides, Remus can’t imagine a world in which he’d ever be good enough for Sirius Black.

Remus walks up to their front door. Sirius’ front door. The door is open, and Remus steps inside. No lights are on inside. For a moment, Remus thinks no one’s home, but then he hears a soft whimper coming from the living room. Remus leaves his suitcase in the kitchen and walks towards the sound.

“Sirius?” He asks softly.

Then he sees him. He’s curled up on the couch, clutching the supposedly lost green jumper and pressing it against his chest. He’s crying. His cheeks are wet with tears and his body is shaking with his sobs.

For a moment, Remus can only stand and stare, hardly able to comprehend seeing his best friend so broken.

“Sirius?” He asks when he eventually regains the ability to speak. “Oh, Sirius…”

Sirius’ eyes fly open, red and puffy from crying, and he sits up. He looks at Remus as though he’s a ghost.

Remus expects Sirius to quickly wipe the tears away, and laugh it off or pretend that it never happened, but he doesn’t. He launches himself at Remus, wraps his arms around him, and clutches to him like a life-line.

“Don’t go, Moony. Please don’t go. I can’t. I can’t without you. I can’t. I need you, Moony. Don’t leave. Please… Just please don’t leave!”

Remus just holds him and soothingly rubs his back, whispering whatever comes to mind. “I’m here, Siri. It’s all going to be okay. I’m here.”

Remus sits Sirius back down on the couch, and once he’s calmed down a bit, Remus places a hand on his cheek to wipe the tears away “Why did you never say anything?”

Sirius covers his hand with his own. “What could I have said? You’ve always been very clear. You don’t do romance or relationships, it’s not for you. I would’ve just driven you away, and I rather had you with me, though not in the way I truly wanted, then not have you at all.”

Remus pulls his hand back and shakes his head. “But nothing’s changed. I’m still a werewolf, I still can’t give you all the things you deserve.”

Sirius cups Remus’ face in both his hands and forces him to look at him. “What does that matter? I love you, Remus Lupin. If you reject me because you don’t feel the same way, then I’ll accept that. But don’t you dare reject me because you’re deceiving yourself into thinking that’s what’s best for me. You were gone for three hours, and look at what a mess I was. You’re what’s best for me.”

Remus can see the determination in Sirius’ eyes. What if? What if this could be more than a fantasy? What if we lived in a different world? But it doesn’t matter, does it? This world or any other, they’re Sirius Black and Remus Lupin and they’re meant to be together.

Remus gets up from the couch and Sirius drops his hands and stares after him. Remus walks over to the old muggle phone he sometimes uses to talk to his mum, or occasionally Lily, and picks up the horn.

“Good afternoon, I’m calling about a booking I’ve made for the flight from London Heathrow to Boston Logan International Airport tomorrow. Under the name Remus John Lupin. Yes, indeed. No, madam, I’d actually like to cancel my booking.”

Remus can’t help but smile at the relief, hope and love all evident on Sirius’ face.

“Yes, madam, I’m sure. I understand, but I can assure you that I’m absolutely certain.”

While the lady goes on about the airline’s cancelation policy, Remus meets Sirius’ eyes.

“As a matter of fact, madam, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #wolfstar holiday prompts

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Note

i hate that i didn't say hi in that last request. HI hazel what do you think about!! "MY MOM KNITTED YOU A JUMPER" for malum? that sounds like the malum i love!! love u <3

hello hello hello here you go!

Ficmas Day 4

Rating: General Audiences

Read on AO3

Christmas in London is very different from Christmas in Australia. For one thing, there’s snow on the ground. It’s not much, tramped over by boots and mixed with the dirt to create sludge along the streets, but it’s still present on the ground. For another thing, it’s cold. Australian temperatures can dip down in winter, but by December it’s warm again, summer sun heating skin from the moment you step outside. It’s strange to be at the end of December and have to put on a coat outside. It’s also a little colder than Australia ever gets, and Michael finds himself seeking out blankets inside the house and shoving beanies over his hair before he sets foot outside.

It’s also different because Liz is the only parent around. All of them had to barter extensively with their parents to convince them to even let them come to London, and once they realized they probably wouldn’t have Christmas together it prompted a new flurry of discussions about the exact timeline of the move. In the end, professional interest won out over familial traditions, and Michael isn’t upset about heading to London early, but he’s careful not to mention the ache of loneliness in his stomach when he calls home.

He’s not really lonely. He has Calum, Luke, and Ashton, and Liz ensures that they all eat actual meals and get enough sleep and always have someone to turn to when they need a motherly hug. They have a little fake tree with some lights and generic ornaments on it, and Liz has been snatching packages as soon as the post delivers them, shifty about the contents inside. Michael isn’t worried about gifts, because being in London is his Christmas present, and it’s kind of nice to get the full Northern-Hemisphere-Winter-Experience shown in all of the movies.

It would be worse if he didn’t have Calum. It would be worse if he didn’t have all of them, but Calum has always felt like home in a way that few other people ever will. He’s been Michael’s best friend through thick and through thin, and he’s the one who brought Luke into their life and who’s agreement to do the band kick-started their process. Michael can always count on him to cheer him up on bad days and share his happiness on good ones, and living in London is a lot like an extension of the sleepovers they’ve been having since before they hit double-digits. The biggest difference is that they’re in separate beds rather than piled sleeping bags on the floor.

On Christmas Eve, Michael wakes up late and spends a long time laying in his bed, debating whether he should bother getting up or let himself melt into his mattress. Luke and Liz had plans for the day that they had suggested dragging everyone else along for, but Luke’s bed is empty and Michael can’t hear other activity in the house, so they probably left already. Michael doesn’t mind. He’s been tramping around London a lot lately, and a day to recharge is fine with him.

When his stomach finally growls, he heaves himself out of bed, throwing back the covers and shivering at the change in air temperature. He needs socks. He needs long sleeves. It's winter in England, and that is not conducive to getting out of bed right now.

He manages to find socks that smell clean and a t-shirt that seems passable. Hunger pushes him towards the kitchen before an acceptable hoodie can be found, but he can always sneak into the other room and steal one of Calum's. Calum's hoodies tend to be some of the most comfortable, and he guards them carefully. He always lets Michael keep it on if he's caught wearing one, though, which is more than can be said for the other two.

Calum enters the kitchen once Michael's toast pops. Michael has an irrational fear that the toaster popping will startle him bad enough to bite the tip of his tongue off, so he's partially thankful that Calum makes his appearance then and distracts him, even if his presence startles him more than the toast ever could.

"I didn't know you were home," he says in answer to Calum's raised eyebrows.

"Liz took Luke and Ashton. They'll be gone all day."

"Doing what?"

Calum shrugs. "I think Liz is still getting presents for the family to send for New Years and wanted Luke to help. Ashton just likes being out of the house."

Ashton is probably trying to find gifts for his own family. Michael already sent some kitschy souvenirs for his parents, although they haven’t reached Australia yet. He'll get them something better later, when he actually figures out what they would appreciate.

"Toast?" he offers.

"I'm making noodles," Calum says.

"Can I have some?"

"Yeah, okay."

Michael hums and slumps against him. Everyone should have a Calum in their lives. He's a space heater and a chef and a great bassist rolled into one, and he's pretty low maintenance. Michael only has to give him undying love to get all of the perks.

They keep a comfortable silence while Calum cooks and Michael eats, enjoying existing together rather than filling the air with mindless chit chat. Michael takes a shower when he finishes his toast, and Calum has the noodles ready when he's done. After lunch, they migrate to the living room, taking advantage of the empty house to finally play Fifa uninterrupted. Calum wins more than Michael, but he's not mad about it however much he pretends to be. Calum is often humble to a fault, so Michael is happy to let him rub these victories in his face.

Calum goes to check the mail while Michael gets more snacks. He comes back with two packages, one that he distractedly puts on the couch and another that he looks at curiously. It's bigger than a shoe box, taped together securely over some colorful paper.

"What's that?" Michael asks.

"From my mum," Calum says. "Your mum sent Liz something."

"What? What is it?"

"I don't know," Calum says. "It's a crime to open someone else's mail."

"But it's from my mum."

"Maybe she and Liz gossip about you. If it's meant for you, you'll get it tomorrow."

Michael pouts. Calum is, unfortunately, very resistant to his pouting. He also takes the package and makes Michael put it in Liz's room before Michael can get too curious and start shaking it. He could still peak, but then he'd have to contend with Calum's disappointed face. That's not something anyone should have to face on Christmas Eve.

"Michael!" Calum calls from the living room. "Get out here!"

"Why?"

"Mum sent you something!"

Michael leaves the package on Liz's bed and tramps back to the living room. Calum grins and holds up a dark blue sweater with two white stripes stretching around it.

"My mum knit you a jumper!"

"For me?" he asks. Calum nods enthusiastically.

"Put it on," Calum says. "She wants a picture."

He holds out the jumper, letting Michael slip his hands in the arms and helping him pull it over his head. It's a little big, spacious and comfortable, and the yarn is soft. Michael doesn't know the difference between any of the stitches, but they're fun and feel fancy.

"She said she made it big so we can grow into them."

Calum pulls another jumper out, just like Michael's except in green. When he puts it on, Michael resists the urge to help fix his hair, unruly from the static.

"I can't believe your mum knit me a jumper," Michael says.

"She's going to do one for Luke and Ashton, too, but she wanted to get yours done quickly. She said you're an ice cube in our winters, so she was worried about how you were handling this one."

Michael feels a rush of affection for Joy Hood. The entire Hood family is his favorite family besides his own, even without considering the fact that Calum is his favorite person.

Calum snaps a selfie, tilting his phone so they both fit in frame. Michael presses close, faces centimeters away, and ensures that his grin is bright and happy, trying to push as much gratitude into one picture as possible. Calum doesn’t step away while he sends it and Michael once again leans against him.

“Tell her I love it,” he says, looping his arms around Calum’s waist. He slips his hands under the hem of Calum’s shirt and presses them against his stomach, making him squirm and swear.

“Get your icicle hands off me!” he laughs, but Michael has a grip now and doesn’t let him go until they’re tumbling onto the couch in a tangled, giggly mess.

“Still want to play another round?” Calum asks once he catches his breath. Michael considers it, but he can’t properly cuddle with Calum if he has to hold a game controller, so he shakes his head.

“Movie?” he suggests instead. Calum shrugs and grabs the remote, shutting down the game and switching the input so they can browse through Netflix. Michael stretches out and Calum fits himself against him, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover their legs. It’ll probably get too warm about thirty minutes into whatever they decide to watch, but for now it’s perfect. Michael tucks himself lower into his sweater and pulls Calum closer to him, savoring every piece of warmth he can get.

#my writing #malum #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020 #hey did you guys know that I love malum #because I do!#also apologies Taylor I got this out later than I wanted and you might be asleep? or getting ready to sleep?#if so hope you enjoy getting this gift in the morning #fun fact I looked up whether Australia says sweater or jumper #it seems like jumper might be it?

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blu-joons · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction: Spending Christmas Together

Jin:

🎄 The 1st of December, the decorations come out, covering the house in bright lights and statues

🎄 As with every year, the two of you would have a new pair of Christmas pyjamas, this year you both wore a blue pair with penguins all over them

🎄 He loves to make Christmas cookies together a few nights before Christmas, his favourite has to be his cinnamon biscuits

🎄 Jin is always the first one up on Christmas morning, shaking you awake to open presents together

🎄 If all else fails, kisses are his best way to wake you from your sweet slumber, “merry Christmas jagi.”

🎄 Every year he spoils you with presents, every year he always buys you one of his aftershaves to keep hold of when he’s on tour

🎄 The dinner is spent at his restaurant with his family, you’re all dressed beautifully with massive smiles on your faces

🎄 His parents buy you the best presents, ear defenders, “you’ll thank us for them at some point in the year.”

🎄” Excuse me, I’m hilarious, Y/N loves my jokes, don’t you love?”

🎄 He loves to round up all the jokes from the crackers, giggling to himself before he can even deliver the punchline

🎄 The evening is spent just the two of you, cuddled up by the fire watching your favourite Christmas movies

🎄 He makes the best hot chocolate, and with the spare biscuits left over to dunk, it’s the perfect winter warmer

🎄 With lots of kisses and cuddles, it’s the perfect ending to the perfect day

🎄 ”It’s just been the most perfect time with you, I hope you’ve had as good a Christmas as I have, because mine’s been amazing.”

Yoongi:

🎄 You’d be woken with mistletoe, and a gummy smile, the most amazing view to begin a day of festive cheer

🎄 He’s a bit of a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas, but being able to spend time with his family means a lot to him

🎄” At least try and pretend to enjoy today,” you’d tease, peppering several kisses all over his face

🎄 He’d try and pretend not to be bothered, but secretly he was a big kid, especially when it came to the presents you bought him

🎄 The two of you wore matching oversized jumpers, just so everyone knew you were together

🎄 His mum cooked the best dinner, it was the highlight of your day, going to his parent’s and being able to see them

🎄 A hand of his would rest over your thigh under the table, admiring the beautiful bangle that you’d bought him

🎄” I really like the bracelet, thank you so much for it jagi, it’s perfect.”

🎄 When you headed home, the two of you would lay under a blanket together, looking out of the window at the young families

🎄 I can’t wait for Christmas with our kids one day,” he’d whisper sweetly into your ear

🎄 It took you by complete surprise, but as the two of you indulged in all the chocolate you’d been bought, the thought bought a smile to your face

🎄 He hated to admit it, but he loved Christmas, and being able to spend quality time with you was what was most important to him

🎄 He’d bid you goodnight with a soft kiss, cuddling you closely to him to try and warm you up

🎄 ”I really enjoyed today, maybe there is a bit of festive cheer in this cold heart after all.”

Hoseok:

🎄 His squeals would wake you on Christmas morning, peering over the bed to see your stockings filled with little gifts that you’d filled in the middle of the night

🎄” Santa’s been! Y/N wake up so I can open all my presents!”

🎄 His family would run a worst jumper competition which the two of you would always get involved in, wearing one fit for two bodies so he could stay close to you

🎄 Affection is huge on Christmas; they always say it’s a time to show your loved ones you love them, and he does that in bucket loads

🎄 You’d be firmly placed in his lap as you went around his family opening presents, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around your waist

🎄 He’d take you away in the middle afternoon to the park, getting away from the hustle so that he could dedicate some of his time to you

🎄” You’re still the best present I’ve ever had, every year I’m just thankful to have you in my life.”

🎄 Whenever music was on, he’d be dancing, pulling you up, twirling you around, swaying along with a wide smile on his face

🎄 His favourite present of the year was a new piece of jewellery that he could wear on tour and during shows

🎄 The night was spent back at your house, cuddled up by the fire, blankets were over you, soft music played in the background

🎄 His lips peppered all over you, thankful to have you in his life, showering you with the affection that you rightly deserved

🎄 You’d cook a second dinner together at night, decorating the table with candles and crackers, wearing paper hats under Hobi’s orders

🎄 Lots of selfies would be taken to remember the day by, scrapbooking them like you did with all your memories

🎄” I wish today would never end, but I’m really excited to do it all again next year

Namjoon:

🎄 The two of you decide to runaway for Christmas to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, no phones, no people, just the love the two of you share

🎄 It’s perfect, you get up late, cuddling in bed, with no parents shaking you to get up so you can open presents

🎄 In the afternoon you take a long walk through the snow, even finding time to have a snowball fight, which you definitely won

🎄” This is the Christmas of dreams; I feel like I’m in a movie!”

🎄 He’d even arranged for the two of you to go sledging as a surprise, knowing that it was something you’d always wanted to do

🎄 It was freezing, the two of you were wrapped up tight, giving Namjoon the perfect excuse to constantly cuddle you

🎄 He’d stay well away from the kitchen, leaving you to prepare dinner, you could barely trust him to make the two of you hot chocolate

🎄 The evening would be spent competitively playing board games, with the radio on in the background to sing along to

🎄 ”I’ve never heard this rendition of Jingle Bells; you know how to make a song unique Joon.”

🎄 The two of you would be in fits of giggles all day long reminiscing about all the good times you’d shared together

🎄 To end the day, the two of you would settle on a movie, but neither of you would pay attention, lost in each other instead

🎄 His hands would be through your hair, your hands would rest over his abs, staring out of the window at the falling snow

🎄 In the end, the two of you would fall asleep downstairs on the sofa, far too tired to carry yourselves up to bed

🎄” What do you say to never leaving this place? Christmas here really is the most wonderful time of the year.”

Jimin:

🎄 Breakfast in bed (perfectly round omelette, hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and a fruit salad)

🎄 Lots of morning cuddles and kisses

🎄 Opening presents after another hour of staying in bed

🎄 One particular gift from Jimin is a beautiful pendant necklace with both your initials engraved on it

🎄 Go out for shopping at the mall afterwards and meeting the santa and taking tons of pictures together

🎄 Going to an Italian restaurant for lunch while it snows outside

🎄 Later at home changing into a formal party wear for a Christmas dinner with your families

🎄 More kisses to keep yourselves warm

🎄 Meeting cousins and relatives and opening more presents

🎄 Massive Christmas dinner with tons of wine and laughter

🎄 Taking a stroll around the park afterwards while it snows and walking arm in arm to keep yourselves warm

🎄 “I love you Y/N, thank you for making this Christmas extra special for me.”

Taehyung:

🎄 Waking you up with lots of kisses and tickles and warm hugs

🎄 Cuddling and falling back to sleep in each other’s arms

🎄 Opening presents downstairs while drinking hot chocolate and being wrapped in a large blanket together

🎄 One particular gift from him is a charm bracelet with both of your initials engraved on it

🎄 Going to your families’ house and spending time with them

🎄 Having a huge Christmas brunch with your relatives and laughing and drinking tons of wine

🎄 Taking you out to a ‘surprise place’ and surprising you by taking you to a waterpark

🎄 Spending the whole afternoon in the jacuzzi and warm Greek baths, being wrapped in each other’s arms in the warm water while it snows outside

🎄 Going home in the evening and changing into a fancy dress to go out for dinner at a lavish French restaurant

🎄 Seeing Taehyung talk in French to the waiter (cause let’s admit it that SHIT IS HOT)

🎄 Eating lots of chocolate while walking back home arm in arm and laughing and pissing other people off around you

🎄 At home changing into comfy, warm clothes and curling up together on the couch to watch Christmas movies and drinking more hot chocolate

🎄” Merry Christmas Y/N. I love you so much, no matter how much hot chocolate foam you get around your mouth.”

Jungkook:

🎄 It’s a Christmas getaway in the mountains

🎄 Waking you up by pulling a childish prank on you and then laughing at your pissed face until he rolls on the floor with tears running down his face

🎄 Apologising and taking you downstairs where you open your presents and answer phone calls from relatives

🎄 Sitting on his lap on the couch with jazz music running in the background, while you’re wrapped up in one big duvet because the heating in the cabin you rented won’t work anymore

🎄 Watching the snow fall from the sky through the large wall window of the cabin

🎄 Lots and lots of cuddling and warm kisses

🎄 Changing into thick overlayers to go skiing for the morning before having breakfast at a nearby cosy café

🎄 Going for a walk around the mountain city you’re in and buying each other cute gifts

🎄 Taking pictures with the santa around the prettily decorated small village

🎄 Finding yourselves a quiet fast food restaurant to have a lunch and laughing and tossing fries at each other and almost getting kicked out when the whole packet of ketchup falls on the floor

🎄 Laughing and stumbling out of the restaurant and heading back to your cabin to get changed into more comfy wear and going for a drive through the mountains while it snows and Christmas songs play on your phone

🎄 Coming back home late at night and being told by him to go to the room and wait

🎄 For an hour at least and then being called back downstairs to see a beautiful dinner set up

🎄 Eating happily and watching Christmas classics, being wrapped up in two duvets because the heating still won’t work

🎄 “Merry Christmas Y/N. Maybe I should thank the owner of this cabin for purposefully keeping the heating off just so I can hold you even closer to me.”

---

Masterlist

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maviemesregles · 4 years

Text

Twas two days before Christmas

This one-shot fic was written for @thelallybrochlibrary Holiday exchange.

A prompt from @maryooch : "How about Jamie meets Claire while she’s trying to skate (badly) at Rockefeller center during the Christmas season. Both are unattached and in the city for different reasons."

Special thanks to Anne @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur for always getting my messy ideas and improving them. For once again for making sure it's nice and readable for you guys.

Hope you enjoy and feel a wee bit festive! ❄️

AO3

New York, New York Frank Sinatra sang. The Big Apple stretched out all the way to the horizon in a milky white blanket of snow. The skyline pierced with gleaming structures of steel, glass, and concrete.

Claire stared out of the window where snow became even thicker than an hour ago and turned the buildings into giant ice cream cones.

“Honey, are you there?”

“Yes, Mum.” Beauchamp pressed her ear to her iPhone and climbed onto the high hotel bed. “I’m listening.”

“Baby, what did they tell you about the flight? Father has been calling British Airways at least a hundred times today. You know what he’s like.” Julia Beauchamp rattled around in the kitchen cupboards.

Claire dropped her head into the mass of pillows crispy scented of fresh laundry.

Of course, something like this could have happened only to her. After the three-day medical conference in New York, with bags full of gifts, sweets, booze for Dad, and cosmetics for Mum, Claire was ready to go back home for the holidays.

But this year the family tradition wasn’t going to happen because Claire got stuck in this city for God knows how long. The heavy blizzard came upon New York, forcing all the transatlantic flights to be cancelled. Red-faced, hands full of bags, and sweaty in her jumper, the English surgeon hissed “Fucking morons” when she was told she’s not flying today. And most likely not for the next three days. Her cell-phone kindly reminded her today is the 22nd day of December. Only two days left before Christmas. If not for being scared to be without a means of contact, Claire surely would have smashed the device on the white airport tiles.

“They put me into the hotel. It’s all paid.” She glanced at her suitcase, surrounded by shopping bags. “All flights to London cancelled.”

Reaching into one of the bags, Claire grabbed a chocolate bar, not caring about a proper lunch at the moment.

“What about Bristol? Manchester? Anything at all?” Her mother sighed, looking at the shopping list for Christmas dinner. “Dad could pick you up. Lamb just got the car back, all fixed.”

Chewing on the mint chocolate, Claire flicked through the menu on the side table.

“Nothing. I even checked flights to Edinburgh and Dublin. It looks like I’m stuck here.”

There was silence for a while. Claire could hear their dog Pop, an old pug, snoring in the background. All she wants to do is cry. Is it so much to ask? To be home for Christmas time?

“Oh, darling.” Her mother’s voice is soft and reassuring. She knows. “It’ll be fine. I’m certain that you will get home right in time for Christmas.”

After a brief goodbye, Claire checks the flight schedules again. Her frustration mounts and she begins to pace a circular path for at least ten minutes. Her nerves begin to fail her and she decides a cup of chamomile tea would be just the thing.

“Or better yet, a bottle of red," she speaks out loud filling the void for the room. She may as well take advantage of all this suite has to offer.

Her body relaxes into the lavender-scented bath foam, warming her chilly flesh as the fruity Sauvignon Blanc infuses her mouth. Later spurred by the TV forecast (damn the winter) Claire gets into leggings and oversized, knitted horridness of a sweater (decorated with mistletoes and festive ornaments all over it). She shortly video chats with Geillis who is hugely disappointed Claire won’t get to the annual work party at the hospital.

“I do hope ye willna waste yer time in New York, a thasgaidh,*” hummed her ginger colleague. “Go to Time Square, Central Park or… Oh, weeeel, ye can go skating! Mebbe ye’ll find some attractive American who’d lay an eye on ye.” Geillis smirked.

Checking the explosion of hair on her head in the mirror, Claire sighed.

“If that attractive American is a pilot that takes me home, I would not mind, just tell me where to find him.” She tried to secure the naughty curls into something that could resemble a bun but eventually giving up. “I feel like bloody Kevin McCallister,” Claire said as she slid into her boots.

“Weel, just dinna get in trouble with burglars.” Edgars barked a laugh and wished Beauchamp to have fun.

🎄 🎄 🎄

Claire surely could say that Christmas time in New York must be wonderful. Even though her mood sunk to the lowest level, she became determined to raise her spirits. God, all those books about positivity and visualization her Mum reads out loud to her should have a hint of truth to them. Right?

The streets were decked with glimmering lights and dazzling displays. The chill in the air burned her cheeks and Claire was swept up into the herd of people like a fluffy sheep in her soft white woolly coat.

Roads were covered in a sparkling powder that made a nostalgic crunchy sound under feet. People were dressed in layers of scarves, cardigans, and warm winter coats. Some held onto hot beverages to warm their hands as well as their bodies. Some brave tourists were sporting red noses just like the one of Rudolph the reindeer Claire had seen in a Macy’s display. Everything was bright and festive. All the Christmas lights twinkled and the colourful signboards reflected off the snow. Christmassy music played from the shops displaying their wares touting them as the perfect gifts. The sounds of Christmas could be heard coming from phones and the passing cars. It was everywhere. Claire softly hummed a tune as her feet followed the crowd leading her to Rockefeller Center. When Claire lifted her head, her heart grew tender with childhood memories. She stood right in front of the huge Christmas tree, adorned with all its lights, the star on top causing Claire to get teary-eyed. She literally felt like a movie character standing here now. Glancing at rosy-cheeked, laughing people on the ice rink, she joined the queue.

“To hell with it.” She could make her own Christmas memories here, alone in NYC.

Claire had to admit she underestimated herself, thinking that skating is like riding a bike. But, she found that it most assuredly wasn't. She tried to keep her legs as steady as possible, trying to get used to gliding on the ice. Holding onto the rail, she wobbled around before she braced herself to finally go into the middle, and actually skate.

She surely thought that she looked like a penguin trying to find its friends, as she awkwardly moved around in the crowd. Occasionally, she squealed and even closed her eyes when particularly fast skaters passed her by. The moment Beauchamp thought she had got it, she pushed harder and began to glide on her skates. Before she knew it, she crashed into someone else. Clenching her fists and closing her eyes before her body hit the ice.

“Jesus. H. Roosevelt Christ!”

Falling down on her bottom, surgeon hissed at the burning feeling of her palms meeting the ice.

“Here, let me help ye.”

After no needed pause, Claire opened her eyes, glancing at the owner of the soft burr. The stranger whose hand was stretched out to help, smiled, a pair of blue eyes studying her intently.

“Thanks.” Giving a faint nod, Claire accepted the man’s hand. A swift pull and she was back on her feet, trapped between the arms of this bloody good looking man.

He was handsome from the depth of his cobalt blue eyes to the gentle tilt in his voice. A face with striking features Claire was sure she likely won’t forget. The strong jaw with a shadow of stubble and lips that took the soft shape of a smile. A scent of expensive cologne swirled around him. And the hair of the brightest red she’d ever seen.

“Yer didna hurt yerself, lass?” The man steadied her with both of his hands firmly on her waist.

Claire’s cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink and she could feel the heat of his touch growing on her skin. Beauchamp dropped her gaze down her feet, mumbling.

“I’m fine. Though it takes some time for the pain to settle in and I can only hope I will be able to walk tomorrow.” She waved her hand in no particular direction but rather in frustration.

The stranger smiled as they awkwardly skated to the rail. Claire glanced at him through her lashes smiling back.

“So yer a Sassenach then.”

“Excuse me?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows, unable to stop looking at him. Damn him, he was attractive.

Her saviour let out a soft laugh.

“Yer English, no?” Besides his remark about her Englishness (Claire figured he was a Scot in mere seconds), his tone was kind. “It means an English person or an outlander.”

“How lovely.” Claire snorted examining her palms.

“I didna mean to offend ye.” He leaned to touch her shoulder gently. It took Claire longer then it should to speak up, the words burning against her dry throat.

“You didn’t.” The surgeon gave him a lopsided smile, stretching out her hand. “I’m Claire. Thanks for saving my arse.”

The Scot barked a laugh and took her hand in his. Claire wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not, but the way his skin felt upon hers gave her the rush of goosebumps all over it. Did he feel it too?

“I’m Jamie. And I’m more than glad to save such a lovely arse.”

What an eejit, he thought to himself. Who says that to a lass ten minutes after meeting her?

He already opened his mouth to give her a stream of apologies but she bit her lip and the bell of laughter warmed his heart. A Dhia, she was lovely.

Jamie had noticed her almost immediately when she entered the rink. That mass of curls that made her look like a fairy that stepped out the Scottish legends. He had to smile at the lass when she tried to skate (and very badly to his own good luck). Jamie watched her for a while when he could catch a glimpse of her absolutely horrid Christmas jumper and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her arse did not escape his attention either, perfectly round in those leggings.

As they made their way toward the lockers to gather their belongings, he learned she was from London. A surgeon visiting here for a medical conference. And no, she has never been to Edinburgh.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the window, Claire mentally admitted there were times when she had looked better when a man approached her. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her back as she did her shoelaces, slowly she brought her head up, eyes locking with his.

The blue oceans met the whisky rivers. Claire wanted to say that she should go, it’s getting dark, and this day had got the better out of her. But instead, she took a step as if an invisible magnet was pulling her towards him. There was a silence that drowned them both into the abyss of unknown but much-needed connection.

“Jamie, I -” Her tongue, feeling like sandpaper, moved ever so slowly.

She felt hypnotized, barely registering that she started to walk the opposite way to the exit. But the next second, she found herself staring at their linked hands and his eyes travelling to her face.

“Wait, Claire.” Jamie wet his lips, the corners curl into an almost apologetic-like smile. “I ken it might be daft as we just met, but would ye do me the honor of joining me for dinner?"

She glanced at him, with eyes warm like a fine aged scotch.

“I would not mind a company.”

“I ken a perfect spot.” His hand on the small of her back, leading out of the crowd.

🎄 🎄 🎄

Claire was sure the air crackled with electricity or chemistry (or whatever they call it) as she and Jamie walked through the snowy streets of New York. The roads have been only partially plowed and cleaned. Beauchamp found her legs drowned up to the ankles in the fluffy mass. Jamie carried her over the asphalt where the snow began to turn into mushy puddles from the trampling of an endless stream of pedestrian traffic. Claire giggled as he carried her across each puddle, and felt the tips of her ears turn scarlet red.

The distance between them grew closer and closer until eventually, their shoulders were brushing against each other. She had learned that Jamie was born in the area of Inverness. He had a huge family, a sister and a brother which included many nieces and nephews as well. Claire smiled when she noticed his proud tone when he spoke about his father and the particular tenderness when he mentioned his older sister Jenny. Jamie had worked for the last three years in the US and at 34 years old he was a successful entrepreneur.

Claire mentioned the nomadic lifestyle she lived when she was a child. Her parents worked a lot and she had spent two years travelling with her uncle Lamb. She had a best friend, a Scottish lass named Geillis. Beauchamp liked to read and spend time in the garden with her mum. She sadly recounted that she had made the mistake of getting married only to find herself divorced after four months of the young marriage. Her ex-husband’s name was Frank. The memories made her uncomfortable and she did not want to remember more. Jamie did not ask further, only stating he never married.

“And yer telling me ye have no boyfriend?” Fraser’s hand curled over her delicate shoulder, encouraging Claire (to her own delight) to nestle closer against him. It was such a casual move that she had thought she knew Jamie for ages already. The warmth that was radiating from him rooted deep in her belly and was rising up and up, making her ache at the very core of her being.

“Seeing no one.” Claire shook her head, peeking at him through her lashes. “And how is that my fellow Brit is not with a lassie? ”

Jamie made a sound deep from his chest, something typically Scottish she’d gathered.

“I am with a lassie, and a verra bonnie one, I must say, am I not?” He smirked, though his voice was painted with seriousness.

“Flatterer.” Claire dropped her head, pretending her boots were much more interesting than anything else she’d seen. In truth, it was to hide a smile.

Later their hands merged together, fingers entwining. The strangeness and absolute familiarity of their palms fitting together was something neither of them could explain. Everything seemed to be suspended around them causing the time to become disjointed. Finally, they arrived at their destination.

“Highlands NYC?” Claire read out loud the name of the place Jamie had brought her. “Really? Out of all places in New York, you brought me to Highlander bar?”

The tips of Jamie's ears burned, the red matching his hair. Letting a shaky breath, his lips leaned over to her ear.

“Sassenach, ye should experience Scotland to its fullest.”

That moment Beauchamp went weak in her knees. The raspiness in his voice and… God damn, all of him almost forced her to drag Jamie to the nearest toilet and indeed enjoy one of Scotland's sons to his fullest. She did not.

They sat at the bar since all the tables were booked. The barstools migrated as close as possible for Jamie’s fingers to run freely at the expense on her back, sending goosebumps all over the skin. Her knees accidentally touched his. She laughed, loud and infectious at his stories. Throwing her head all the way back, exposing the pale skin on her neck, placing the blue of her veins in full view. The sight made his cock twitch. She laughed heartily, smacking her palm on his thigh when she found his joke particularly funny. Jamie's breath hitched becoming shallow and broken. She licked her lips. Claire slid her hand over the cold glass containing her cocktail. Her movements were deliberate, slow, down and up over the patterned glass mimicking... What did Geillis say about the unconscious signs?

Fraser shifted in his seat, more than ready to suggest they go somewhere where they find their way to each other. The hot air inside the pub and between them made both ache for each other.

But the food arrived distracting them from their lustful thought. They dined on Haggis dressed in whisky butter, and warm quinoa with crispy spiced chickpeas. They laughed and joked, speaking of this and that learning about each other. As the evening wore on, Claire found her heart beating its way out of her ribcage. She leaned in planting a soft kiss on Jamie's cheek fearful of having to whisper words of parting lying on the tip of her tongue. But she found she was not yet ready to say goodbye yet.

“Would ye like me to walk ye to yer hotel?” His voice was hoarse, scented with the whisky he had drunk. Claire leaned into him whispering:

“Yes.”

They hadn’t said goodbye in front of the hotel. Not in the foyer, either. Certainly not in the lift. As they stood in front of each other surrounded by glass cubicle she moved first.

Before he knew it Jamie’s mouth was claimed by hers. Chest heaving and gasping for air, both parted and stared at each other until the lift announced their destination with a soft Ding.

Claire’s hands shook, the room card almost slipping out of her sweaty palms. The second her feet entered the room, Jamie had pulled her closer by the waist. The lengths of the bodies pressing, Claire’s cheeks flaming hot. He breathed heavily as he left a trail of burning kisses down the column of her neck.

“Christ, I want ye.”

Cupping her arse Jamie’s lips traveled up, taking her bottom lip between his. She smiled against his mouth, hands pulling at his nape, closer and closer, until the kiss could actually hurt. She could feel the length of him, hard and ready through his jeans and it made her almost blind with animal-like want.

“Take this off,” Claire whispered pulling at the hem of his shirt. Aching for him became powerful to the point where she could not bother unbuttoning his shirt, Claire just yanked the soft material over his head.

She could swear she heard him growl when her sweater followed the same destination as Jamie’s shirt and landed into the fabric puddle on the floor. No bra in the way, Jamie did not hesitate to kiss his way down Claire’s cleavage, stopping for the thorough exploration of each breast. Her mouth dropped open in a silent plea when his lips captured the nipple. Almost burning with the heat that grew between her thighs and made her belly ache, Claire reached down, to unbuckle his jeans. Tongues danced, lips bitten surely to swell come the morning, teeth raking over the soft skin of the neck. Pulling the leggings with underwear to her ankles Jamie definitely left blueish trails where his fingers pressed. But it was a delicious feeling that bordered with painful pleasure. They stumbled upon the bed, falling into it, a suppressed laugh emerging between their mouths. Gently but firmly Jamie had pushed Claire flat on her back, letting his hand trace the invisible paths all the way from the high hills of her neck, down to the valley between her breasts, the plain expanses of her belly, all the way down to the hidden secrets between her thighs.

She moaned into his lips when his fingers had found her apex between her thighs. His bold caresses drew sighs, moans, and keening that he longed to hear. With the right pace and rhythm he drew those sounds out of her. Claire’s curls flew all over the white pillow. Air! She needed air and began to take deep lungfuls. Writhing as the sweet torture continued, Claire took large fistfuls of linens as an anchor. Arching into his hand, she had lost all the train of coherent thoughts.

“Jamie…” Gasping for air burning hot in her throat, she finally broke into the million atoms finding herself thousands of light-years later, breathing heavily, the sweat trickling down her nape.

“Ye’re so beautiful when ye become undone.” Jamie murmured, lips pressing a soft kiss at her brow.

Still shaking Claire reached between them finding a condom and gladly placed it on him. She’d found herself again in Jamie’s embrace. Still, she kissed him hungrily with the remnants of her own satisfaction yet to fade, asking for more. Jamie did not need much encouragement and with the slightest nod of her head, guided himself into her. The sudden, hot sensation of him made Claire throw her head back. Seized lungs could not produce any coherent sound. As Jamie’s hips moved fast into her, reaching that right spot, again and again, she could only cling to him for dear life. When Jamie’s own breathing became slow and shuddering, it wasn't clear where he began and she ended. The world expanded beyond itself. It grew into a million colourful stars shining brightly around them.

Well into the night, as Claire slept, he drew tender paths with his fingers mapping the lines and valleys of her body.

Later she awoke from her sweet slumber by the quiet rustle next to her. Jamie sat upright, hands roaming on the floor in the search of his underwear and jeans. For some reason, it bitterly stung. Claire slowly brought her hand up, gently touching his back.

“Please stay.”

🎄 🎄 🎄

Claire was sure it’s all had been a dream. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and in ten minutes her mother will call her downstairs to help start making dinner preparations. The brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes are not going to cook themselves. Her still sleepy mind started registering unusual noisy traffic outside, quite the opposite of the calm London neighbourhood where her parents lived. She turned to her side, eyes still tightly shut. Claire wasn’t sure now if she wanted to open her eyes and find herself home (where she so desperately wanted to be just twenty-four hours ago) or to wake up to the reality of finding one particular Scot next to her?

The mattress felt unfamiliar and too comfy. Her old bed in Beauchamps house surely did not feel that way. Moreover, the heat radiating from her left side was more likely from a person than the furnace. Claire’s eyes snapped open and she had to blink several times to get used to the bright sun, bouncing off the snowy scenery outside.

“Weel, hello to ye, sleeping beauty. I was afraid ye’d been cursed and would never wake.” Jamie rolled onto his belly, propping himself on the elbow. “Though it’s rather a nice sight to observe”

He ran his fingers down the line of Claire’s jaw before leaning in to kiss her.

“So you’re not a dream.” She smiled and pulled the blanket up higher than her waist, suddenly feeling shy. “What’s this?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion as Jamie fished his phone out, nodding to the screen.

“I don’t understand.”

“Ye’re going home, Sassenach.” He chuckled, feeling quite proud that he’d managed to find them both tickets to Edinburgh this evening. Jamie rather never did say out loud the price he paid but the look on Claire’s face was worth much more than that.

“Bloody hell!” She squealed, not believing her eyes. “How can I ever repay you?”

Jamie smiled when her hands wrapped around his neck.

"Love me some more, Sassenach.”

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #oneshot #llholidayexchange #the lallybroch library #christmas smut #modern au #wee babies meet up in NYC #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #maviemesregles #LLholidayexchange #a holiday there is

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter Three: It’s Complicated

Forever? Masterlist

1st February 2016 Ashley loved celebrating birthdays, she especially loved celebrating Harry’s birthday. On the morning of the first day of February she pulled herself out of bed and found her phone to send Harry a video of herself dancing to Stevie Wonder’s rendition of happy birthday. It was easier to do when she still lived with her mum because their house was considerably bigger than her new flat in London. Being from the North of England Ashley was naive when she started house hunting, but eventually she managed to find a small flat in South London that had decent enough tube connections to allow her to get to work each day. She had also managed to make it her own, making the most of the available space, each room was incredibly small, but that was how things worked in London. She was set to be at work all day and then she’d have to face the inevitable joy that was rush hour as she traveled into North London for Harry’s birthday meal.

Following breakfast she rummaged through her wardrobe looking for something she could wear to work, but would also be appropriate for Harry’s meal. She was still yet to tell Harry about the baby and her choice to keep it, so she thought tight fitting clothes were out of the question. Eventually she settled on a grey chunky roll neck jumper which she paired with black jeans and her trusty leather jacket. Her hair was a mess as always, she didn’t even attempt to curl or straighten it, so decided to opt for a simple but effective top knot.

“Morning sunshine!” Ashley called as she sat at her desk, across from her new found friend Toby, he was one of those effortlessly fashionable people who looked painfully good in literally anything. The two of them were doing the same paid internship and shared a mutual appreciation for Colin Firth; they spent every lunchtime together, Ashley swiping through Toby’s tinder matches to find him a suitable match, whilst Toby continued to talk about his failed dates, this week's disaster was Roberto.

“How are you so awake when it is so early?” Toby sighed, spinning on his office chair.

“It’s called getting nine hours of sleep you melon.”

“I love it when you get all sarcastic, makes me realise I’m not actually as cynical as I thought.” Toby told her as she tapped away on her computer.

Whilst on their daily lunch break Ashley and Toby stopped off at Starbucks, “What can I get you love?” the barista asked her.

“Just a cheese and marmite panini and tea please.” Ashley replied as she handed over her cash.

“Cheese and marmite? Are you trying to insult me?” Toby asked in disgust before ordering his salad and cappuccino.

“You aren’t allowed to be rude to me, I’m pregnant remember, besides it's one of my odd cravings, along with chicken nuggets dunked in peanut butter.” She told Toby sarcastically, the only people who knew about the baby were her mum, Gemma and Toby, she hadn’t intended to tell anyone at work until further down the line, but using dry january as an excuse not to go on a work night out didn’t seem like a feasible excuse, so she felt it necessary to tell him the truth. She was still yet to find the right moment to tell Harry, or Anne for that matter, she didn’t want to have to tell her best friend that her first child was born out of a loveless night of lust, well in fact there wasn’t even any lust on Ashley’s behalf.

“What ya thinkin bout pet?” Toby asked her as they took their usual seat in the window.

“All sorts, whether I should buy a crib or wait a few months, whether or not I should tell my best friend I got pregnant after a drunken mistake.” Ashley explained, biting her nails the way she always had when she was anxious.

“Whoever this elusive friend of yours is, I’m sure he’ll still care about you the same way whether or not you’re pregnant, so stop being so hard on yourself, besides babies don’t stay that small forever, in a few months time your belly is going to be the size of a beach ball.” Ashley hadn’t told anyone at work her best friend was in fact Harry, she didn’t want people to think she got a free pass just because she was best friends with pop sensation Harry Styles.

As soon as she entered Leicester Square Station Ashley regretted her choice to get the tube, it was packed, even though on the streets of London there was still a cold chill in the air, somehow the underground remained its warm and sweat inducing self. She held onto her bump with one hand, while the other had hold of the pole, not wanting to face palm on a tube full of people. Since moving to London Ashley was often successful at wrangling a seat, seeing as it was pretty obvious she was pregnant, it had taken her a while to adapt to the bluntness of most Londoners, growing up in Holmes Chapel, life moved at a much slower pace, people stopped for a chat and it wouldn’t in anyway impact the progress of their day, but here everyone was in a rush, living in their own little bubble.

Harry’s restaurant of choice was fancy, very fancy, when Ashley arrived they took her coat from her and led her to the table where Harry, Anne and Gemma were sat with several other people she didn’t recognise, so assumed they were colleagues and famous friends of Harry’s. “Happy birthday Haz!” Ashley cried as she hugged her best friend.

“Thank you petal.” he whispered into her hair, swaying her from side to side, he was dressed in yet another Styles signature look, a loose white shirt which was only buttoned half way, so his bird tattoos were peeping out, paired with black skinny jeans and chelsea boots

“This is for you,” she handed him the gift bag, Ashley never knew what to get Harry, if he wanted something, frankly he was in the position where he could afford it himself, there was no need for Ashley to buy him anything fancy, so instead she decided on a leather bound notebook with room for all his scribbles and ideas. “Twenty two eh? Pretty sure someone’s written a song about that.” She smirked, shooting Harry a knowing glance as she took a seat opposite him, beside Gemma.

“You alright?” Gemma mouthed, to which Ashley nodded, being the generally caring and compassionate person she was, Gemma had accompanied her to the twelve week scan, and offered her services as a general source of comfort, because in Ashley’s eyes she was the next best thing to Harry.

The food was posh, and Ashley had always lacked a refined palette, the poshest food she’d ever had was when her dad took her for tea and cake at the Ritz, so she opted for what she felt most comfortable with, steak. Conversation was buzzing amongst the table, Harry had lots of questions for Ashley, he hadn’t seen her since Christmas and wanted to know all about her first month working at Capital. “Some champagne for you sir.” The waiter placed the bottle on the table in front of Harry and a champagne flute in front of each guest.

Harry stood up, clearing his throat, “I’d like to say thank you all for coming tonight, it means a lot to have all my favourite people in one room, so cheers!” Harry told the group before popping the cork, he made his way around the table to pour everyone a glass, eventually getting to Ashley, “

I don’t want any thanks H.” She told him softly.

“Oh come on Ashley, it’s the first day of February, dry January is over so you’ve got to have a drink.” he insisted.

“I’m fine H, I don’t want one.” She replied.

“Just one, a little one.” He pushed.

“Harry leave it.” Gemma told him sternly.

“Why are you getting all defensive all of a sudden Gem?” He asked, placing the bottle on the table.

“If she doesn’t want a drink I just don’t think you should pester her about it.”

“Harry I wasn’t doing dry January, the real reason I haven’t been drinking is-” Ashley muttered.

“You don’t have to do this, not now, not if you aren’t ready.” Gemma assured her.

“What’s going on? Why are you two being secretive?” Harry questioned, the several glasses of wine he had consumed, clearly taking effect, on his normally rational state.

“I’m pregnant.” The silence was almost deafening, the light conversations around the table had stopped, Ashley and Harry looked at eachother like there was no one else in the room, she hadn’t wanted to tell him like this, she was going to tell him when she was ready. Harry sat back in his seat, twiddling his thumbs, “I think I best leave you all to it, thank you for having me,” Ashley whispered before standing from her chair, she left some money towards the meal on the table, took her bag from the chair and left the restaurant, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gemma glared at her brother as Ashley darted out of the restaurant, “Well done Harry, you handled that with real compassion.”

“What did you want me to do? My best friend just told me she’s pregnant.” Harry replied.

“For Christ sake Harry! She’s the one who is going through all of this, and yet all you can think about is your bruised ego.” Gemma told him bluntly, the raised voices drawing unwanted attention from other customers in the restaurant.

“You two need to calm down.” Anne soothed, placing her hand on Harry’s arm, “I’m sure she had a valid reason not to tell you love.”

“Harry, be the friend she needs you to be, go after her and apologise.” Gemma instructed him.

London was dark, as you would expect, it was early February after all, Ashley made her way towards Highgate tube station, the winter frost biting at her skin as she walked. She entered the station, rummaging through her pockets for her oyster card, “Ash! Wait.” She turned to see her best friend, panting heavily as though he’d run a 100 metre sprint, the station wasn’t busy but he had drawn some unwanted attention to himself. “I’m a dick.” he sighed as he walked closer to her.

“Little shit actually.” she replied, a small grin appearing briefly on her lips.

“What I mean is, whatever happens, whatever you have to deal with over the next few months, I’ll have your back, forever.” He assured her, holding onto her elbows, so as to steady her.

“The reason I didn’t tell you was because I thought you’d think I was a failure, for fuck sake I’m nearly twenty and I’m three months pregnant and the father is a twat who currently resides in Malia and probably beds a new girl every night.”

“I don’t think you’re a failure, out of everyone I know you’ve got your shit together, you knew you were pregnant when you came to London, but you still did it, the idea of being here alone didn’t phase you and I admire you for that.” Harry told her, “You’ll be a great mum, and I’ll be an even better uncle.” Harry chuckled.

“I’ve got another present for you if you want it? I think you’ll like it more than what I actually got you.” Ashley rummaged in a bag, pulling out her twelve week scan, “That’s your niece or nephew in there.”

Harry grinned eagerly, his dimples becoming more prominent than usual, “Can I keep it?” he asked her, unable to stop smiling.

“Of course you can.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry I’m such a little shit.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing the top of her head, “I’m going to look out for you two forever.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles best friend fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #best friend harry #harry blurb #fine line #treat people with kindness

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blouisparadise · 5 years

Photo

Upon request, here is a list of MPreg fics that do not have A/B/O dynamics.

Happy reading!

1) I’d Like To Know | General Audiences | 1783 words

An AU where Louis does a photo shoot for a magazine six months pregnant cause they want to get some good pictures of him and just how great his life with Harry is going.

2) He Steps Out, The Crowds Lose Their Minds For Him | Mature | 3022 words

The exact moment Harry feels his resolve break is when he pads into the bathroom one evening, yawning and scratching his arm to see Louis standing in front of the mirror, eyes downcast as he spreads one of his hands out on the slight bump of his tummy, rubbing over the jumper he’s wearing. Which, Harry is pretty sure, belongs to him.

It comes out accidentally. Accidentally, as in he didn’t want it to come out yet, but it did. “I want a baby.”

3) I’ll Hold Onto Love | Not Rated | 3483 words | Sequel

Based on the prompt: “Mpreg. Married!Larry are grocery shopping with their precious toddler and Louis is pregnant again. He’s practically glowing and looks like a total angel. someone hits on Louis and Harry goes all possessive alpha caveman over his babies because damnit, Louis, the baby he carries in his womb and the one he carries in his arms are all his, and no one is gonna take them away from him!“

4) All In My Mind | Teen & Up | 4305 words

Louis and Harry find out they’re expecting, and tell the boys. Kind of.

5) Baby, It’s Cold Outside | Explicit | 4583 words

Louis goes into labor on his birthday/Christmas Eve.

6) The Hope That Warbles In My Fluttering Breast | Mature | 9629 words

The winter growls loud and mean outside as Harry Styles comes home to his precious Louis.

7) How’s About We Make a Baby? | Mature | 11835 words

Everyone always talks about how Harry Styles would very much like a baby. Louis would swear on his grave that he’s doing everything he can to give him one.

8) 'Cause I Can't Come Back Home 'Til They're Singing | Explicit | 13261 words

"Here, give me your hand,” Louis says, taking a pen out of his pocket.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just gave you my phone?” Harry asks with a chuckle.

“Yes, it would, but this shows that you’re going to try harder to call me and get my number down before doing something stupid like washing your hands,” Louis throws him a grin, writing his mobile number on the inside of Harry’s palm. “Don’t sweat too much.”

“I won’t. Don’t want to lose this number,” Harry says slowly. “Can I give you mine?”

“No, I’ll wait for your call and see how you do,” Louis grins. “I’m not that easy, Styles.”

“You’re worth it, though,” Harry murmurs.

9) This Glorious Mess | Mature | 14620 words

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes float open to focus on what used to be his bedside table.

It’s empty now, devoid of the framed photo of the two of them. And Louis knows that he has no right to feel hurt, but somehow, this only confirms what this really is.

“This is the last time,” he cries, his voice breaking both from pleasure and pain.

“I know, baby,” Harry breathes, burying his face in Louis neck.

10) The Seed Inside You, Baby, Do You Feel It Growin’ | Explicit | 14793 words

Louis really wants Harry to get him pregnant.

11) Maybe, Baby | Mature | 16004 words

Louis runs away. Harry finds him.

12) Going My Way | Explicit | 20261 words

"Hey Harry. Really sorry to do this to you but an emergency has come up with Vera’s mum and we’ve had to jump a flight home. My mate Louis is going to take over my LYFT clients while I’m away. He’s got my car and my phone and everything else. Hope that’s okay. He’s a good guy and I think you two are going to get along brilliantly. Catch you soon, Benny."

13) You Can Keep Me Inside The Pocket Of Your Ripped Jeans | Explicit | 23820 words | Sequel

Louis Tomlinson is an English fashion designer. Harry Styles is an American football player. Their paths cross through twitter.

14) Oops, Baby, I Love You (In That Order) | Explicit | 25344 words

The minute Louis Tomlinson decides he don’t need no man to start a family, Harry Styles literally falls into his arms.

15) The Things I’d Do To Wake Up Next To You | Mature | 36109 words

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

16) If I Stay | Mature | 37226 words

Harry and Louis agree to a temporary arrangement that Harry can't seem to walk away from no matter how many times he tries.

17) Underneath The Moon | Mature | 46927 words

In five years’ time, Louis would be the one saying to his students about how he knew the great Harry Styles, in a time before he had ever put out an album or performed on a real stage. Harry fucking Styles had been his best friend and he still loved him, he always would. But they couldn’t stay that way.

18) Such Good Luck | Explicit | 66205 words

An Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

19) The Breaking Of Your Soul (Upon My Lips) | Mature | 138499 words

The one in which One Direction in 2015 still includes Zayn, and nothing has been right between Harry and Louis for a long time now. Louis is certain that the situation he finds himself in won’t change anything at all - he doesn’t want it to, if he is honest with himself, as he doesn’t want this situation to be a situation in the first place.

20) All I Want | Mature | 289311 words

When Harry and Louis got together it wasn’t under the best circumstances. Louis was taken by another. But go figure that the way they ended up together is the very same way it ended. And Harry left Louis. He left him with a lot more than he thought. A story about how people’s misconceptions almost destroyed a love that went beyond measure.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #mpreg #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp

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obsidianarchives · 5 years

Text

Beneath the Surface - Part 3

A Bond in Bloom

Before she knew it, Hermione was in regular correspondence with Blaise Zabini. What started off as a nerve-wracking task became the thing she most looked forward to during her break. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so lonely anymore, not so cut off from the world.

Having grown up solely in the wizarding world, Blaise started off with a lot of questions. What did her parents do? Why would anyone pay good money for someone to stick foreign objects in their mouth? What did Hermione want to be before she found out she was a witch?

Hermione tried to be thorough in answering his questions, and asked more than a few of her own. Blaise started off interested in Muggle Christmas, but when Hermione explained it to him, he sounded slightly disappointed.

I’m just going to be upfront and say that that sounds boring. Sorry.

My mum and I have never really celebrated Christmas. She says she doesn’t need an excuse to buy me things, but I think it’s also because my birthday is only four days before.

Hermione learned that Blaise and his mother hadn’t always been rich. Madam Zabini’s parents had cut her off after she got pregnant at the age of eighteen, and so for the first four years of his life, Blaise’s mother had worked in a shop in Diagon Alley struggling to make ends meet. Some wealthy wizard saw her there one day and was so enraptured by her beauty that he offered to take her and her young son in.

From the tone of the letter, Hermione could tell Blaise hadn’t liked Mr. Fawley, a pure-blood who seemed to have dealings with all kinds of people, some not so legal. At least, when he died, five years after discovering his mother in the shop, he’d had the foresight to look after them, willing his Gringotts vault to her.

I don’t really remember a time when we didn’t have all this, Blaise had written, but my mum often reminds me that it can be taken away. She spoils me, but she also has a very clear vision for my life. I think she worries about our position in part because of our race. She’s always warning me to keep quiet and pay attention to those I surround myself with because our class and pure-blood status only protects us so much.

She runs in a lot of circles that believe pure-bloods are superior, and I guess I accepted that for a long time. But I don’t understand why proving your worth means you have to hurt and kill others. I don’t think she would ever go that far, but I know at least one of my step-fathers supported the Dark Lord pretty heavily back in the day. I don’t know what she would do if I flat out refused the ideology that has largely kept us safe and comfortable.

It makes me feel like a fraud, acting like I believe in these things because it’s all I’ve known. I don’t know if I can be myself without putting myself and her in danger.

Hermione felt for Blaise and his precarious position, and hoped he was being careful in sending these letters out. But he was nothing if not prudent, and the way he opened himself up made her feel comfortable to do the same. She told him how it felt being Muggle-born, especially with Voldemort back in the open.

I’d lived in this regular, unremarkable world for the first eleven years of my life, she wrote. Strange things would happen to me — like the time I accidentally drowned my mum’s office ficus after worrying overnight that I hadn’t watered it like she asked me to — but everything else was ordinary. And then I get this letter telling me I belong to this fantastical place where amazing things happen. I was so excited to leave my ordinary life for an extraordinary one.

But then Malfoy called me ‘Mudblood’ second year. I didn’t even know what it meant at the time, but I got the tone, understood from the way everyone else reacted that it was bad. I’d come to this wonderful world, only to find the same prejudices as the one I was from, ones that put me in immediate danger. It’s terrifying, but I know I can’t just step aside and let it continue.

She was starting to feel bad for Blaise’s owl Adonis, who would arrive at her window in the morning and then leave again in the afternoon once Hermione finished her letter. She didn’t know where Blaise lived in the country, and worried that the journey would start to take a toll on the owl, so she’d taken to leaving out food and water for him. He would occasionally take a few sips of water, but he refused to touch the owl nuts. At the end of one of her letters, Hermione told Blaise what was happening, and asked what the owl would eat.

The next letter arrived with a package, a small note attached that read Don’t laugh. The package contained Avion Dawdle’s Premium Owl Mix. Hermione poured some in a bowl as she read Blaise’s letter, and put in her response that she had, in fact, laughed.

Blaise had started off telling Hermione that he felt like he didn’t have to pretend with her, and Hermione felt the same of him. In one letter, she found herself writing about something she’d thought of often, but which she hadn’t voiced even to Harry or Ron.

I’ve never liked when people called me ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age.’ I do work quite hard, and strive to do my best in everything I do, but the title always feels uncomfortable. I don’t do the work for recognition — or at least not in the way others might, for awards or praise. I do it because I’m genuinely interested and want others to feel proud of the work I do.

When people call me that, I wonder if they see me as a real person or just as a human encyclopedia — even sometimes with Harry and Ron, who I know care about my well-being but sometimes fall into the comfort that ‘Hermione will do it or fix it” without thinking about how to do it themselves.

It felt like a release to get the thoughts out, and even more of a relief to have Blaise validate those feelings. In his response, he flat out told her that anyone who only wanted her around for her knowledge didn’t deserve her. Hermione had blushed when reading that, glancing furtively up at Adonis, who blinked at her, looking deeply uninterested.

…

The start of the new term came quickly, and soon Hermione found herself back on the Hogwarts Express in a compartment with Luna Lovegood, listening to her gush about her vacation with her father, where they’d spent the entire time drinking Gurdyroot juice and harvesting blue radishes from their garden.

“They turn orange in the summer, but when they’re blue they’re perfect for drawing out toxins and bad auras,” she said dreamily, “We used them to decorate the house for the New Year.”

Hermione felt cheerful and a little nervous about returning to Hogwarts. She was glad to get back into her routine, to studying for exams and learning more about the fight against Voldemort. But another thought, large and nebulous, loomed in the back of her mind. She tried not to give it space to solidify, but still the sign off of Blaise’s last letter echoed in her mind.

See you at school.

She hadn’t seen him on the train platform, and felt glued to her seat across from Luna. The thought of going to look for him on the train both terrified and excited her, but she had to remind herself why it was a bad idea. He could be in a compartment full of Slytherins, or at the very least was somewhere others might see. She didn’t want other people whispering about their relationship when she wasn’t even sure they had one to begin with. So she stayed put, fighting to keep still.

Luna noticed her fidgeting and offered her a swig of doowindle water, which she said would help “calm the mind and limbs.” Hermione did her best to decline politely, pursing her lips and looking out of the window.

Finally, they made it to Hogwarts, and after a quick dinner on her own — Harry hadn’t arrived at the school by Floo Powder yet — Hermione went up to Gryffindor Tower to prepare for the next day of classes.

After giving a hungover Fat Lady the password, she entered the common room.

“Granger!” a high voice called to her from across the room.

A tiny second year, Liam Redding, hurried over to her, a note in his hand.

“I was told to give you this,” he said.

Hermione’s heart was pounding in her ears, “Thanks.”

She hurried up to her room, grateful that neither Parvati nor Lavender were inside, and ripped open the note. It was written in now-familiar handwriting.

Meet me near the Quidditch pitch?

Excitement and nerves shot through her. She stopped and took a deep breath. This was fine. She could talk to Blaise — she had been for weeks. This was nothing.

There was more than enough time before curfew, so Hermione put on her boots and pulled her winter cloak on over her jumper. Her hair was already tied down into two braids, so she jammed her hat over her head and wrapped the bottom half of her face in a thick purple scarf that had been one of her parents’ Christmas gifts to her.

Snow was falling lightly as she stepped out of the entrance hall and onto the grounds, the lake looked like it was made of gray slush. Wind tried to worm its way through the fabric of her clothes. Hermione shivered and drew her cloak tightly around her before trudging through the snow.

Her stomach flipped when she saw the dark figure up ahead, near the Quidditch stands. As she got closer she saw Blaise’s lanky figure, a scarf tied loosely around his neck, green hat covering his head and ears. He was watching her approach, hands deep in the pockets of his black cloak, teeth playing with his bottom lip. Was he nervous?

“It’s freezing,” Hermione complained as she approached, “Why couldn’t we meet indoors?”

Blaise shrugged, looking up at the gray clouds, “I like the snow.”

Hermione watched his face for a moment, the peace that seemed to come over him, and smiled. A warm feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach.

He looked down at her then, “How are you?”

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, “I’m okay. Ready to get back into classes.”

Blaise nodded. They stood there silently for a moment, and he shifted his weight a bit, so that he was closer to her. His scent, cinnamon and cloves, carried over to her on the wind.

Hermione wracked her brain for something else to say. “How, er, how was your break?”

She cringed internally as she finished the question, realizing that she already knew the answer, having corresponded with Blaise the entire time. She suddenly wondered, in horror, whether they would ever be able to interact in person — was it possible to only have great interactions through paper? She felt like she knew this boy, his innermost thoughts, and he hers. Why was this so anxiety-inducing?

Blaise coughed lightly, raising a gloved hand to scratch his nose. “It was fine.”

As he dropped his hand, Hermione noticed something glitter from his wrist.

“Your watch!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm without thinking. She hadn’t seen him with it before break, and it looked brand new.

Blaise was startled, but he held his wrist closer so that she could see it, a gold band with a black face, the hands golden snakes with emerald eyes.

“My mum bought it for my birthday,” he said, “since I came of age.”

Hermione had inadvertently pulled him closer to her, his warm body now blocking the wind. Her cheeks warmed as she dropped his hand, “It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” he said, glancing down at it before putting his hand back in his pocket, “Is there anything like that for Muggles?”

Hermione shook her head, “Well we — Muggles, I mean — don’t come of age until eighteen. And there’s no specific gift.”

“You’re a witch though,” he said, “Didn’t you get a watch for your birthday?”

“My parents are Muggles.”

“Yes, but they have to learn to acclimate to this culture right? Since their daughter is a part of it.”

“I suppose that would be true,” she allowed, “If I’d told them.”

Blaise tilted his head at her, his eyes curious, “Why haven’t you?”

She realized she liked talking to him face-to-face more than writing letters. While the letters had helped her get past her own self-consciousness, she’d only had his words to go by. In person, she could watch his expressions, his mannerisms.

“I don’t know,” she said, “My parents have always been okay with me being a witch, but I guess I sometimes don’t know how to be around them. I’m not around a lot, so I guess I try not to do things that scream at them that I have another part of myself they know very little about.”

Blaise frowned, “Wouldn’t telling them bring you closer?”

Hermione shook her head, “I don’t want them closer. I’m a Muggle-born who is best friends with the Boy Who Lived. It would only put them in danger.”

Blaise fell silent then. At first Hermione thought he might feel put out by her response, but then she realized he was lost in thought.

“What do you tell them, then?”

She shrugged, “My grades, mostly. They can understand those, even if the system is different from the Muggle one. And about my friends,” she had told them quite a lot about Harry and Ron throughout the years.

Blaise’s eyes met hers then, but he looked nervous again, rubbing his nose before asking, “Have you told them about me?”

Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. She shook her head, “Are we even friends?”

He looked away, suddenly bashful. “I mean...I’d like to be.”

Her heart was thudding in her chest. “Okay,” she tried to sound casual. “We’re friends then.”

“Alright then,” he said, sounding relieved.

It was dark now, so that Hermione could really only see Blaise’s silhouette, feel the breadth of his body in front of hers.

“We should probably get back,” she said. Harry should have arrived by now.

She could see Blaise’s shadow nod, and the two turned back towards the lights of the castle, trudging through the snow. A couple of times, Hermione’s shoulder would bump into him, or his elbow was graze her, and she would hold her breath until they slipped back apart in the darkness. Silence spread between them, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Hermione wondered what Blaise was thinking.

They finally got to the front doors. Hermione took a deep breath to recenter herself.

Just as Blaise’s hand touched the handle, the doors pushed open, startling them both. Professor Dumbledore stood in the doorway, a fur-lined navy cloak draped over robes of silver and maroon. His blue eyes widened in surprise from behind his half-moon glasses.

“Ah, Miss Granger! And Mr. Zabini,” he said charmingly, “What a lovely surprise.”

“H-hi Professor,” Hermione stammered, “You’re out late.”

“On the contrary, the night is quite young,” Dumbledore looked between the two of them, “I’m afraid I have some business with Hagrid that needs attending. I do hope the two of you are ready for the excitement of a new term?”

“Of course, sir,” Blaise said politely, looking just as stunned as Hermione felt.

“Wonderful,” Dumbledore said, “Oh, I’ve almost forgotten. Miss Granger, if you could present this note to your friend Mr. Potter, I would be eternally in your debt.”

He passed Hermione a small piece of folded parchment. Recognition flashed through Hermione’s mind. This must be about Harry’s next lesson. “I’ll do that right away, sir.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore smiled at the two of them, “Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you have far more illuminating tasks to get up to than babbling away with an old man.” He swept past them and off across the grounds, towards Hagrid’s snow-capped hut.

Hermione’s eyes felt like they would pop out of her head. As she glanced up at Blaise’s shocked expression, she felt a strong urge to laugh.

They stepped into the entrance hall, which was deserted but for the Grey Lady, moping up near the chandelier. Blaise turned towards her, dipping his head slightly to meet her gaze.

“Well, er, I’ll see you in class?” Hermione said, suddenly nervous again.

“Yeah,” he nudged her lightly with his elbow, “‘Night, Hermione.”

And with that he turned away, taking the staircase down to the Slytherin common room. As she hurried up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, Hermione smiled to herself.

…

Hermione found Harry, Ron, and Ginny stuck outside of the Gryffindor common room, arguing with an irritable Fat Lady.

“Harry! Ginny!” she called, hurrying over.

“Hey Hermione,” Ginny said as she brushed a bit of ash off of Harry’s shoulder, “Where have you been?”

“Oh, er, I’ve just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck — I mean Witherwings,” she lied quickly, internally thanking Dumbledore for giving her the idea. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Yeah,” answered Ron, as if their last interaction hadn’t involved him humiliating her in front of their entire class, “it was pretty eventful—”

“I’ve got something for you, Harry,” she said, pretending she hadn’t heard Ron, “Oh, wait, the password. Abstinence.”

“Precisely,” the Fat Lady said, swinging open. The four of them stepped into the crowded common room where students were greeting friends and taking advantage of the last few hours of down time before the homework started to pile up again.

Hermione pulled out the scroll Dumbledore had passed her at the castle doors and passed it to Harry.

“Won-Won!” came a high squeal, cutting Harry off as he opened his mouth to thank her. Lavender came hurtling into Ron out of nowhere, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly knocking him over. An annoyed look crossed over Harry’s face and Hermione grimaced, remembering Lavender’s worries about her relationship with Ron on the train.

“There’s a table over here,” she said quickly, trying to divert attention from the palpable desperation clinging to the interlocked couple, “Coming Ginny?”

“No, thanks, I said I’d meet Dean,” Ginny said, sounding resigned. Hermione eyed Harry as Ginny walked away, noting the faint optimism in his pink cheeks.

“What?” he asked when he caught her watching.

“Nothing,” Hermione said airily. She’d decided she wouldn’t probe him about Ginny unless he decided to talk to her about it, but his feelings really were obvious to anyone with eyes.

“So how was your Christmas?” he asked, very obviously trying to divert attention from himself.

“Oh, fine,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly as though the question hadn’t brought a certain Slytherin to the forefront of her mind, “Nothing special. How was it at Won-Won’s?”

Harry looked as if he wanted to say something about his friends’ standing feud but she glared at him before he could. He sighed, rolling his eyes before resigning to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Before that,” he said, “I still haven’t told you what happened before break.”

He explained to her that he too had left Slughorn’s Christmas party earlier, soon after she had escaped with Blaise, in fact. Instead of heading to the Gryffindor common room to call it a night, he had followed Snape and Malfoy under the Invisibility Cloak.

“Malfoy was talking about some job he had to do for ‘his master’ and Snape was offering to help him. Said he’d made an ‘Unbreakable Vow.’”

Hermione frowned at the smug eagerness on Harry’s face. “Don’t you think—?”

“—he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he’s doing?” Harry interrupted, clearly having thought through this line of argument.

She blinked, “Well, yes.”

“Ron’s dad and Lupin think so,” he said grudgingly, “But this definitely proves Malfoy’s planning something, you can’t deny that.”

“No, I can’t,” she said slowly. She hated to agree with him when it felt like doing so would just push him further into his obsession.

Still, she let him carry on for a bit with his Malfoy-is-a-Death-Eater conspiracy, inwardly hoping that Harry would find other things to capture his attention. He mentioned that he was planning to tell Dumbledore what he had overheard, and she hoped the headmaster would be able to put a stop to his spiraling.

The next morning brought something else Hermione thought might work as a distraction for Harry: sixth years were to start Apparition lessons. She signed up, excited to finally learn a new magical skill. All day, everyone chattered on about it.

“It’ll be like we’re official adults!” Parvati said excitedly at lunch while Lavender moped quietly, playing with her food and casting furtive glances over at Ron and Harry further down the table. Hermione wondered if something had happened between now and their wrestling match the night before.

“At least you two are of age already,” Lavender sighed, turning back to her chips, “I won’t be able to take the test until summer.”

Hermione had long decided to stay out of her and Ron’s business, so she just gave a conciliatory grunt and went back to skimming the Daily Prophet, which was reporting a Dementor attack and two disappearances since the start of the new year.

After Charms she went to the library, wondering if there was a book she could check out on the theory of Apparition, just so she could be prepared for the first day. She made her way over to the section on Magical Transportation.

The Apparition books were first, and Hermione scanned the titles slowly. There were books about famous Apparating records, scary stories of Apparitions gone horribly wrong (with moving illustrations), even a guide to Side-Along Apparition. She frowned at the empty space on the shelf between Apparating with Aplomb by Gilderoy Lockhart and Arctic to Tropic: How Temperature May Affect Your Apparition by Cardaroc Jumper.

“You’re predictable, you know that?” a familiar voice said behind her.

Hermione’s stomach fluttered as she whipped around to see Blaise leaning back against the shelves dedicated to Floo traveling. He held a small book in his hands, a smirk on his face.

“Hi,” Hermione said. She nodded at the book in his hands, “Studying for Apparition lessons too?”

“Nope,” Blaise said. His fingers flexed around it and Hermione suddenly remembered his firm grip on her elbow at the Christmas Party, “Some of us read for fun, you know.”

Hermione ignored his dig, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of her. “What are you reading?”

Suddenly, Blaise looked guarded, self-conscious. He shifted the book behind his back, “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, let me see,” she said, reaching forward to get a look at the title.

His hand flew up, over his head and out of her reach.

“Honestly,” she huffed. She pushed up on her toes, trying to close the distance.

Blaise chuckled as he straightened his arm, holding the book higher. His breath tickled her ear. Hermione jumped, her fingers bumping against the band of his watch. When she landed she lost her footing, tripping forward.

Blaise’s free hand slid to her lower back, to keep her steady as he stumbled, the bookshelf wobbling behind him. Hermione caught herself on the shelf with one hand, her other splayed against his chest as she tried to maintain her balance.

The smell of cinnamon and cloves filled her nose. She looked up at him, her breath caught in her throat. His eyes blazed and the grip on her back seemed to tighten, sending a jolt up her spine. Hermione’s gaze fell on Blaise’s lips, slightly parted in surprise, and she forgot about the book.

Blaise’s eyes widened and then he looked away suddenly, dropping his hand. Hermione backed up, clearing her throat. Her heart was pounding and she felt as if she were under a very persistent space heater.

“You don’t have to show me,” she said quietly, embarrassed.

“No, it’s fine,” Blaise said. He held the book out to her.

Hermione took it, careful not to let their fingers touch. The cover was an eggplant purple, a curvy Black woman in a glittering dress shaking her hips on the cover. The title was written in curly green writing, A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Success, the Autobiography of Celestina Warbeck.

She looked back up at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, looking abashed. “I like autobiographies. She’s my mum’s favorite singer.”

Hermione smiled at this new bit of information. “What other ones have you read?” she asked, partly because she was curious and partly to show him there was no reason to be embarrassed.

“I’ve read loads,” he said, looking encouraged. “There was this one about the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation before Barty Crouch. He was the one who helped establish an exchange system for different kinds of wizarding money, can you believe we didn’t have it before?”

Hermione had never seen Blaise so passionate about anything. His face seemed to genuinely open up, his eyes alight.

“Seraphina Picquery was the one I read before this one,” he continued. He glanced at his shoes a moment, biting his lip. “The one I read at the beginning of break was about Dorinda Stallworth. She was—”

“The first female Supreme Mugwump,” Hermione said. Her cheeks were flaming now, as she remembered him mentioning how the book had reminded him of her. She plunged forward in an attempt to skip over the strange tension building between them. “I haven’t read many autobiographies. Well, except for Lockhart’s, but that was for school.”

Blaise’s knowing smirk was back. He reached out to take the book back, his fingers brushing her hand. Hermione held her breath. “You can borrow some of mine if you’d like,” he said, “When you’re not too busy studying.”

With a parting nod, he turned down the aisle. Hermione watched him leave, her hand tingling where their skin had touched.

…

A few days later, Hermione stood in an empty courtyard with Harry, snow glittering in her thick hair.

“And so Dumbledore said I have to figure out a way to get Slughorn’s memory, the real one,” Harry looked a little nervous, his looming fate a shadow over him.

Hermione’s mind was racing as she thought through all he had told her. “He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn’t get it out of him,” she said, keeping her voice low in case anyone happened to walk by. “Horcruxes...Horcruxes...I’ve never even heard of them…” How was that possible?

“You haven’t?” Harry sounded disappointed. Hermione felt a twinge of irritation — he always relied on her to know everything.

“They must be really advanced Dark Magic, or why would Voldemort have wanted to know about them? I think it’s going to be difficult to get the information, Harry, you’ll have to be very careful about how you approach Slughorn, think out a strategy…” despite herself, she was already trying to think of ways to convince Slughorn to give up the memory. Perhaps a potion or a—

“Ron reckons I should just hang back after Potions.”

Hermione’s irritation turned to full blown anger, “Oh, well if Won-Won thinks that, you’d better do it,” she snapped, “After all, when has Won-Won’s judgment ever been faulty?”

“Hermione, can’t you—?”

“No!” she said before stalking off, leaving him in the ankle-deep snow.

She was fuming all through Arithmancy. Harry — and Ron — had relied on her for so much: homework, research that was outside of the purview of schoolwork, saving their lives, only to turn around and not take her advice seriously. It wasn’t that she thought she was always right, but for Harry to disregard her opinion for someone who was only dating a girl so he could be seen doing it, who couldn’t even play Quidditch without someone tricking him into thinking he was actually good, stung. When had her best friends become so infuriating?

She felt a strong need to vent, to throw her feelings at someone just for the sake of it. But there was no one. Harry and Ron were her only close friends; Lavender wouldn’t hear a word against her boyfriend and Parvati wouldn’t care. Maybe Ginny, but she had enough going on with her rocky relationship with Dean.

Her mind turned to Blaise as class ended. It had been so easy to talk to him over break, but they were in the same place now. She couldn’t just borrow Hedwig, a pretty recognizable owl, and send her down to the Slytherin common room. Maybe she could find him? But wouldn’t that be weird, not mention stalker-like? Hermione made her way to Gryffindor Tower to drop her things. She sighed internally as she helped a small first year girl pick up the large stack of books that had spilled from her hands onto the ground on the seventh floor. She should just let it go.

Rather than dwell on it, she decided she should write a letter to her parents. It was only a few days into the new term, but she figured she should try to make more of an effort to reach out than she had in the past. Something about the tense climate in the wizarding world made her want to try harder to maintain her Muggle connections, even if she could barely stand to live in that world anymore.

She made her way up to the common room after dinner, ready to spend her time by the fireplace writing to her parents. She walked up a staircase to the fourth floor, pleased that it was already moving to connect to a landing that would take her down a more direct route to Gryffindor Tower. The feeling quickly dissipated when she spotted a group of Gryffindor seventh years, recognizing Cormac McLaggen among them.

His face lit up when he saw her, and Hermione quickly averted her eyes, ready to pretend as if she hadn’t seen him.

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she had almost gotten past the group when McLaggen shouted, “Hey, Granger!”

She wondered if she could pretend not to hear him, but he had already detached himself from his friends, his long legs catching up with her before she could turn the corner up ahead. She slowed to a halt, grimacing.

“Oh, hello,” she said awkwardly, glancing at his friends, who were clearly pretending not to be paying attention.

“Had a good vacation?” he asked, grinning down at her in a knowing way that made it clear he didn’t actually know anything. He was standing too close again. Hermione rocked back on her heels.

She shrugged, glancing back down the hall, “Yeah, it was fine.”

“You know, I was thinking,” he said, barely listening to her response, “I feel like we were cut off at the Christmas party.”

Hermione forced the bewildered laugh that was climbing up her throat back down.

He seemed to take her silence as an invitation. “There’s a Hogsmeade trip coming up soon,” he said, “Maybe we could try again? I’m sure there will be less distractions.”

Hermione took a clear step back then. Trying her best to smile as if her skin wasn’t crawling, she shook her head, “Sorry, I don’t really have time to date,” she said, “What with schoolwork and prefect duties and...other things.”

Mortified, she turned and hurried down the hallway, leaving McLaggen looking dumbstruck. By the time she made it to the common room, it was full of students, all of the seats by the fire taken. Annoyed, Hermione went up to her dormitory, resolving to write her letter in the quiet. She pulled out her parchment and quill and sat on her bed, leaning her back against the headboard. Crookshanks stalked over, curling up on top of her feet.

She told her parents about her classes, the weather, and the upcoming Apparition lessons. She stared at the page long and hard, trying to think of any other updates to give, but there was nothing to say about Harry or Ron that wouldn’t make her more angry than she already was. Honestly, angry wasn’t the word. Tired. She was tired.

For a moment, she wondered if she should include anything about Blaise. She hadn’t told them about writing to him over break, often disappearing into her room for a time to read and respond, or else waiting until they were out for work. Have you told them about me? His voice, the shy way he had looked away from her as he said it, echoed in her mind. She supposed she could tell them about him, but what would she even say? She felt flustered just imagining the ways her parents could read into her words, and she folded the parchment up and sealed it quickly before she could do something she might regret.

She slid her feet out from under Crookshanks and pulled her shoes back on before leaving the dormitory, hurrying through the crowded common room and out into the halls. As she wound her way through the castle to the Owlery, it suddenly occurred to her that her account of the weather might have let something slip about breeding Dementors. She quickly unsealed the parchment as she sidestepped the Bloody Baron telling off Peeves, and made a left at the portrait of two wizards trying their hardest to escape an angry bowtruckle.

It’s been quite gloomy here though the snow is nice.

She exhaled sharply. Good. But now, she felt the need to read through the entire thing, just to be sure there was nothing in it to alarm her parents or alert the wrong person should it be intercepted. Her eyes flew across the page.

“You should really watch where you’re walking,” Blaise’s teasing voice said from about four feet ahead of her.

Her eyes flew up from her account of her latest Herbology class. He stood facing her on the stairs leading up to the Owlery, on the second step from the bottom.

“I was just double checking the letter I’m about to send to my parents,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart rate seemed to pick up speed.

He shook his head, “Overachieving even in your letter writing.”

Hermione flushed, “Did you just get done sending a letter, then?”

“To my mum,” he said quickly, scratching his broad nose, “I finished that book this morning. Thought she might like it.”

“That’s nice,” There was a beat of awkward silence. Hermione gestured up the stairs lamely, “I’m just gonna...go send this off.”

“I’ll come with you,” Blaise said, turning on the ball of his foot to walk back up the stairs.

“Oh,” Hermione said, startled, “Alright.”

She tried to continue reading the letter back on their way up, but she could barely focus. The staircase was narrow, which made it so that they kept bumping into each other with every other step, their arms brushing against each other. By the time they reached the top, she had decided to give up and trust that she’d done alright the first time.

She could feel Blaise watching her as she looked up to find one of the school owls. Normally, she would ask Harry to use Hedwig, who she saw snoozing up at the very top of the rafters, but she wasn’t talking to him. She spotted a barn owl not too far up, and stepped forward to call her down.

“So, you only write your mum?” she tried to be casual, but she felt awkward, her voice somehow coming out higher than usual.

Blaise leaned back against the perch, close enough that their shoulders touched lightly. She felt like a live wire had sparked right in the place where their arms touched, spreading through the rest of her. She tried to ignore it, to pretend that it was no big deal. She couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, but he seemed just as calm as ever. She focused hard on tying the envelope to the owl’s leg.

“Yeah, mostly,” he said, “There was this one girl I used to write to, but she hasn’t sent me anything since we got back to school.”

Hermione’s fingers fumbled around the string, and she looked up. There was that look again, from after the Christmas party. His eyes were blazing, and he was leaning closer to her, as if they were sharing in some big secret. Hermione was suddenly very aware of his body, his warm scent. Their touching shoulders, it seemed, were the least of her problems, especially when he was smirking like that, his full lips tipped up lightly on one side. For a moment, her mind went blank.

“Well,” she said shakily, “She sounds lovely.”

Blaise laughed. It was higher than she expected, but warm and free. All of the building tension seemed to dissipate at the sound of his mirth, and Hermione grinned. She went off to help the owl out of the nearest window. By the time she turned back around, Blaise’s laughter had faded away, but a sweet smile graced his lips.

“Come on,” he said, jerking his head towards the exit, “I’ll walk you back down.”

She followed him towards the doorway without hesitation, and found herself racking her brain, trying to think of something to say or do that might make him laugh like that again.

“So,” he said as they reached the bottom of the staircase, “How is your start of term going?”

Hermione shrugged, “It’s fine. There’s a lot to do, but I’ve improved a lot on my time management.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows at her, “Do you mean to tell me you weren’t always good at time management?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but I can sometimes overdo things.”

“I have never heard that about you.”

“Well then you’ll be surprised to learn that third year Professor McGonagall wrote to the Ministry to allow me the use of a time turner so that I could take all of the classes the school offers.”

Blaise stopped walking, his jaw falling slack. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You traveled in time to take extra classes.”

“You know I never thought about it, but I’m technically at least nine months older than everyone thinks.”

This musing seemed to be too much for Blaise. A laugh burst from his mouth and he keeled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

“That’s — the most — you thing — I have ever heard,” he gasped.

Hermione was giggling too as she truly processed her own ridiculousness and simultaneously took that moment to congratulate herself for succeeding in making Blaise laugh twice in such a short span of time. The sound of his laughter made her feel like she was standing out in the sun, even though they were still in the dead of winter.

“What about you?” she asked, once they had both calmed down a bit, continuing down the dimly lit hall, their footsteps echoing off the high walls.

“What do you mean?” Blaise asked, still smiling, his face a door unlocked.

“What is a peak ‘you’ moment?” as many letters as they had exchanged in the two weeks of Christmas break, Hermione only ever found herself wanting to know more about him.

“Hmm,” Blaise said, nudging her gently to the right so that she wouldn’t miss the turn that led to the Gryffindor common room. “I don’t know that I’ve ever quite achieved that level of self-caricature.”

Hermione huffed, lifting her nose with an air of superiority, “You’ve obviously not been trying hard enough.”

“I did ‘accidentally’ ruin a pair of one of my step-dad’s shoes,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Selwyn. He always seemed hell bent on separating me and my mum. I don’t think I factored into his plans for her,” the ghost of a frown flitted across his face.

“He sounds awful,” Hermione said lightly, “Would the accidental nature of your vandalism hold up in front of the Wizengamot, do you think?”

Blaise grinned then, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. The way his cheekbones filled out when he smiled, the way his eyes flashed playfully...he should really warn her before he did things like that.

“It should,” he said, “It happened just before first year, actually. He’d said something cheeky, I don’t even remember what at this point. I’d gone to bed angry, and when I woke up his shoes had somehow found their way into Adonis’s cage.”

Hermione let out a cry of laughter, then clapped her hands to her mouth, worried she had been too loud.

“Adonis didn’t eat them of course — he has taste,” Blaise said, wrinkling his nose. Hermione had dissolved into a fit of giggles. “They were hideous — some bright red monstrosity he was trying to pass off as dragon leather. He couldn’t get the stains off, even with magic.”

Tears dotted the corners of Hermione’s eyes, as she tried to keep her laughter in, her hand still pressed to her mouth. She put her other hand on Blaise’s shoulder to steady herself, taking a deep breath. He chuckled, joy still lighting his face, but something softer was pushing through.

Her laughter faded away as she suddenly became aware of what she was doing. Her hand suddenly felt like lead where she gripped his shoulder, electricity running up her arm. She bit her lip as she dropped her hand, feeling strangely awkward and self-conscious. Blaise looked away, his face closing off again. Silence stretched between them, tense and confusing.

Hermione cleared her throat, “I should, er…”

“Yeah,” he said, “Me too.”

He offered her a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. As he turned away, Hermione suddenly felt disappointed. She wasn’t sure what had been about to happen, but she was sure she had ruined it.

…

Hermione was trying her hardest to manage her clearly growing feelings for Blaise, unable to see how it could end anything but badly. Still, she appreciated having someone around who made her feel like she was interesting outside of her extensive knowledge on the twelve uses of dragon’s blood. It especially helped given that Harry and Ron continued to infuriate her.

Ron was oscillating between trying to talk to her as if nothing had happened and making snide remarks when she passed. Harry, on the other hand, refused to do his Potions work on his own, instead using the Half-Blood Prince’s instructions any chance he got.

“I have to try to soften Slughorn up if I’m going to get that memory from him, aren’t I?” was his excuse.

But one lesson, towards the end of January, seemed like it would finally backfire on him.

“Settle down, settle down, please!” Slughorn said from the front of the room, “Quickly, now, lots of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott’s Third Law...who can tell me—?” Hermione’s hand shot up, “But Miss Granger can, of course!”

Hermione could see Blaise rolling his eyes at the Slytherin table, but she could tell he was amused by her.

“Golpalott’s Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components,” she recited.

“Precisely!” beamed Slughorn. “Ten points to Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott’s Third Law as true…”

Harry looked like he was going to be sick. Ron wasn’t even paying attention, doodling in the corner of his book as if someone would Apparate into the room and do the lesson for him. Hermione grinned to herself as she copied down Slughorn’s words into her notes.

“...and so,” Slughorn finished, “I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don’t forget your protective gloves.”

Hermione shot up out of her seat and grabbed her phial before anyone else could. She went back to her cauldron and tipped the hissing electric blue poison inside before starting the fire beneath.

“It’s a shame that the Prince won’t be able to help you much with this, Harry,” she said brightly. She couldn’t help herself, “You have to understand the principles involved this time. No shortcuts or cheats!”

Harry scowled as Hermione turned back to her cauldron.

She pulled out her wand and thought Specialis Revelio! The potion separated into its disparate parts. She poured them out one by one into different phials. She recognized the fellviper venom immediately, and the nightshade. The others she had to check in her book. She had most of the separate antidotes in her potion-making kit, but a few she had to grab from the class stores. She poured it all back into her cauldron and set it to simmer before clipping a small chunk of her own hair and adding it in, changing the light, almost transparent peach color to a cloudy and swirling sunset orange.

Harry sighed and stood, going over to the store cupboard.

“Two minutes left, everyone!” Slughorn called. Hermione added a few more ingredients into the now thickly bubbling cauldron, which had now turned a dusky purple. She turned the fire off and started scooping it out, tipping the contents into her bottle.

“Time’s...UP!” Slughorn called, “Well, let’s see how you’ve done! Blaise...what have you got for me?”

Blaise stood by his cauldron, arms crossed. As Slughorn peeked over at his final result, he raised his eyebrows at Hermione playfully. She bit her lip and looked down at her bottle of antidote. She suddenly realized she had forgotten the asphodel on her cutting board. She quickly grabbed some and sprinkled it into the bottle while Slughorn moved on to Malfoy, who looked like he had spilled vomit over the front of his robes.

Slughorn came to their table last. He sniffed Ernie’s potion, and almost gagged at the awful fumes coming from Ron’s cauldron.

“And you, Harry,” he said, “What have you got to show me?”

Harry held out his hand, a small shriveled stone in the center of his palm.

There was a long beat of silence. Harry began to turn red. Suddenly, Slughorn roared with laughter.

“You’ve got nerve, boy!” He boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so the entire class could see. “Oh, you’re like your mother...Well, I can’t fault you...A bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions!”

Slughorn hadn’t even looked at Hermione, had completely forgotten to look at the work she had done. He only had eyes for Harry. She felt a hot anger burn through her, making her eyes water.

“That’s the individual spirit a real potion-maker needs!” said Slughorn happily. Hermione’s hands began to shake as Slughorn went back up to his desk, her potion completely forgotten.

She tossed her things into her bag haphazardly and stormed out of the room as the bell rang. She was sick of this, of putting in so much effort and getting nothing in return. School was the thing she was good at, and Harry was just stumbling through, taking up space without doing any actual work.

She fought back her tears as she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, knowing it would do no good to cry in front of Snape. She chose a seat as far from the back as possible, knowing Harry and Ron would probably choose to sit there.

By the time Harry came in, he didn’t look as triumphant as when she’d left the Potions classroom. She found out why at lunch.

“It was a disaster,” he said, sitting down across from her at the table like she wasn’t still furious with him, “Slughorn all but threw me out at the mention of Horcruxes.”

“Wow,” she said flatly, “Who would’ve thought Won-Won’s suggestion wouldn’t go as planned?”

“Hermione, can’t you just talk to him already?”

“Leave me alone, Harry,” she said sharply, opening up the autobiography of Seraphina Picquery Blaise had lent her the week before.

…

Even through her anger, Harry’s update on Slughorn’s memory reminded her that she wanted to look up information on Horcruxes. On her next break, she went to the Restricted Section of the library. She scanned the books and found two that she thought might work: Dark Sorcery and Magick Moste Evile. After grabbing them both off the shelf, she went to find a quiet corner to read.

She found Blaise instead, sitting at a table on his own, books sprawled out in front of him as he scribbled neatly on a sheet of parchment. Sunlight peeked through the cloudy sky from the high window, briefly passing over him, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. She hurried over to him without a thought, a smile spreading across her face.

“Can I join you?” she asked once she was close enough.

Blaise looked up, his dark eyes bright. He gestured to the empty chair across from him, “Go ahead.”

Hermione dropped her bag on the ground beside the table and sat in the chair as he went back to his work. She slid Magick Moste Evile in front of her, which let out a low ghostly moan as she opened it to the introduction.

Blaise looked back up from his Transfiguration essay, an eyebrow raised.

“Why are you reading such a creepy book?”

Hermione’s fingers froze on the first page. She hadn’t thought of this when she’d come over. She knew she couldn’t tell Blaise why she had really picked up these books, and she cast around for something convincing to tell him.

“I’m trying to understand the way werewolf bites work,” she lied, saying the first thing that came to mind, “I thought these might help.”

Blaise seemed to buy it, accepting her need to know everything about everything in the slightly exasperated way she had become accustomed to. “I doubt Snape will care if you’re able to pinpoint the exact magical property that creates the change.”

“Yes, but learning Defense is about more than getting good grades,” she pointed out.

Blaise’s eyes widened, looking startled, before he shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

They passed the rest of break time in silence, each of them focused on their own work. Hermione didn’t find anything about Horcruxes in Magick Moste Evile except for a small mention in the introduction, so she turned to Dark Sorcery in the hopes that it would at the very least shed light on what a Horcrux actually was.

Blaise started packing up his things ten minutes before the end of break. “What class do you have?”

“Arithmancy,” Hermione said, shutting the book.

“History of Magic’s in the same wing,” he said, pushing himself out of his seat. He jerked his head towards the exit, “Come on.”

He waited for her by the door as she checked her books out with Madam Pince, and then they strode out together. Hermione started to feel a little nervous, wondering what would happen if someone they knew saw them together. As if he had read her mind, Blaise made a sharp right, pulling open a tapestry and revealing a small corridor, a shortcut that would not only ensure they were hidden, but would cut across the castle to where they needed to go. Hermione ducked inside.

“I meant to ask,” Blaise said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, “How are you after the bezoar incident?”

She had left her anger to simmer in the back of her mind in her more pressing quest to learn about Horcruxes, and it burned brighter now at the mention of their last Potions class. But she couldn’t let Blaise know how much it hurt. She suspected he had a bias against Harry, which she wasn’t sure was just from his being a Slytherin. “I’m fine,” she said tightly.

“Hmm,” Blaise said. Hermione looked up to see that he was frowning.

“What?”

“Nothing, just you looked really upset in class…” he trailed off, glancing down at her, his eyebrows raised.

Hermione huffed, “Well obviously I’m furious, but there’s nothing I can do. Harry is Professor Slughorn’s favorite.”

“Even among us favorites,” Blaise sighed, though he didn’t sound bitter. “I’m sorry he didn’t get to appreciate your hard work,” he reached out and tugged lightly on her hair, where she’d snipped off a bit to add to her antidote.

Hermione scowled at his sly grin and smacked his hand away, pretending that the contact didn’t sent her heart racing.

Up ahead, she could see the exit, could hear the chatter and footsteps of students just beyond the large framed portrait that was blocking them in, out of sight.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, curiosity in his eyes.

“Sure.”

“Why’d you hesitate to tell me how you were feeling?”

Hermione’s stomach flipped but she rolled her eyes, “Because if I tell you how I’m really feeling, you’ll just go into a diatribe about how that’s why you’re a loner who luxuriates in your own solitude atop the Astronomy Tower.”

Blaise laughed, but shook his head, “Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Not now that I’ve found you.”

His words made her blush, and her voice came out quieter than she intended. “Glad I could help pull you down from your tower.”

They slowed to a stop, just before the entrance. She looked up at Blaise, about to suggest that they leave one at a time, so that no one would suspect anything. But Blaise didn’t seem to be thinking about an escape. His eyes sparkled humorously, and he took a step towards her.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” he murmured.

He was so close, Hermione couldn’t see past the breadth of his shoulders. His warm scent filled her nose and her breathing turned shallow as he gently tugged on her hair again, his fingers winding their way through her tight curls. Her eyes locked onto his. There was a fire behind them, and she couldn’t look away.

She lifted her chin as he bent down, closing the already shrinking gap between them. And then his lips pressed against hers, gentle but firm.

Before she could think, before she could decide to kiss him back or pull away, the pressure on her lips was gone, his hand gone from her hair.

Her eyes fluttered open, just in time to see Blaise’s standard smirk before he pushed the portrait open and slipped out into the crowded hall.

To Be Continued

#Hogwarts #Hermione Granger #Blaise Zabini

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1dffexchange · 5 years

Text

Snowflake

To: Vanessa @halfwaygones

From: Steph @harrysmeadow

Summary: It’s the most wonderful time of the year, but not when your parents leave you on your own for the holidays and the best thing you’ve got is a ready meal from M&S to see you through the big day. So when Elsie travels to a different home for Christmas, will the day be as magical as she hoped it would be?

“We’ve always been a good team haven’t we?” Elsie mused, as she put the final touches on the work she and her closest friend had spent the past few hours on.

“We have,” Harry agreed with a grin, going to stand by her. “This just proves it.”

Stood in the corner of the Styles’ living room was the newly decorated Christmas tree. With beads instead of tinsel, and an absolute mis-mash of baubles that didn’t at all match, it was slightly different than usual, but a different that Harry liked, a different he could get used to. Elsie had always had a unique way of doing things, she was different in her own way, but still always fit in.

And stood next to the twinkling tree, propped up on her tiptoes, trying to make sure the angel on the highest branch was secure, was the most beautiful angel Harry had ever seen. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her with him at Christmas, even if it wasn’t in the exact way that he wished for. He felt guilty though, the circumstances weren’t great for her, but she’d ended up with him, and for that he had to be thankful.

“Oh wow!” Another voice called out from behind them. “The tree looks great guys!”

“Thanks Mum,” Harry replied happily.

“Elsie, do you want to come round and decorate for us every year? The Styles household could do with a bit of Elsie Christmas magic,” Anne winked in Harry’s direction. He shuffled away quickly pretending to fix something on the tree, and tried desperately hard not to blush.

“Thank you so much again for having me Anne,” Elsie said. “It’s so lovely getting to spend Christmas with you all. Although I’m sure Harry is sick of me following him around everywhere, he can’t get rid of me at work and now I’m here too!”

“You’re more than welcome my love, couldn’t have you all on your own at Christmas now could we? She replied.

“Well I really appreciate it, it was very kind of Harry to offer.”

***

It was a cold winter’s morning when Harry had put the plans for a new project they’d just signed on to on Elsie’s desk and she’d thanked him with a grin and a promise to buy him a cinnamon swirl from the bakery across the road at lunch time. A little while later when he decided it was time for a brew, he headed to the breakroom. He popped the kettle on, and grabbed his ‘Mr Work-a-holic” mug Elsie had bought him for his birthday last year, which reminded him to ask her if she wanted a drink too. He turned in the direction of her office, but remained at the kitchen counter watching her instead when he saw her through the glass.

She was on the phone, to who Harry didn’t know, but he could tell, even from the distance that she was upset. She was slumped back in her chair and the corner of her mouth was twitching slightly, her free hand was continuously raking through her long blonde hair and tugging at the knots caused by the winter winds at the end.

He hoped it wasn’t a client she was talking to. He knew how hard she worked on every project that landed on her desk, and if someone was telling her that what she created wasn’t good enough, it would crush her.

Abandoning his tea Harry rushed back to his own office and rummaged around his drawers until he found what he was looking for. Elsie’s emergency hot chocolate. He didn’t even know if this was a true hot chocolate worthy emergency yet, but he felt like it would be appreciated nonetheless.

When he went back to the break room to make her drink he saw her hang up the phone and drop her head to her chest, and in doing so Harry’s heart dropped too. He didn’t know whether she was feeling sadness, anger or pain, but he did know that he didn’t ever want her to feel those things.

Elsie spun around in her chair and a small but thankful smile appeared on her lips, when she saw Harry appear at her doorway holding out the mug towards her. “How did you know?” She asked, sounding slightly dejected as she reached out to take the hot drink from his hands.

“Was in the breakroom and saw you on the phone, it didn’t look good so I brought in the big guns,” he joked, and she huffed a small chuckle before taking a sip.

“You’re an angel,” she smiled, and Harry resisted the urge to tell her the same.

“You ok Els?” He asked.

She drew a deep breath and placed the mug on the desk, immediately she began twisting the rings on her fingers, turning them so the jewels on each one sat perfectly in the middle.

Elsie was a perfectionist, she always had been. Everything she did was carefully planned and prepared for, whether it was the next week’s dinner she was making in advance or the final design for a client at work. She didn’t like surprises. She wasn’t a control freak, she knew when to step back and let others have a turn, but when she did have the chance to do things her way she’d try her best to make sure everyone was happy.

“Yeah I’m fine. I just got off the phone with my Mum. She said her and Dad are going on a cruise for Christmas. She got some deal on an over 50’s couples package. So looks like I’ll be having a ready meal from M&S at dinner time on the big day,” she huffed, before taking a big swig of the hot chocolate.

“You’re joking right?” Harry replied confused. Why would anyone not want to be with Elsie at Christmas he thought.

“Nope. First time ever I’m not gonna see my parents on Christmas day.”

“Could you not go to Immie’s? Surely your sister would take you in?” he puzzled, trying to think of some ideas that might help.

“I’m not homeless Harry!” she laughed.

“Right, yeah sorry,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Well I love a good spinach and ricotta ravioli from M&S anyway, so who’s the real winner?” she joked, but Harry could see through her bright exterior.

“Els, you can’t be serious. You’re not sitting at home on your own on Christmas day,” he stressed. Harry knew how much she loved Christmas and the holiday season, he only had to look around the room the were in to find an abundance of decorations that she brought out every year in the office. As soon as bonfire night was over, the next day she’d show up to work with a festive jumper and a big box of tinsel to hang up and around the cupboards in the break room. ‘It makes people happy!’ she would reply to Harry when every year he asked her why she was so excited to put them up.

“Well what am I supposed to do instead?” she replied exasperated, because it was true, she didn’t want to be alone on Christmas day. Elsie had always believed the holidays were about spending time with family, friends and loved ones. She adored the traditions her own family had come to make over the years, like how every year they’d each get a new bauble and they all put them on the tree before they started opening presents. She loved the afternoon walk around the fields that surrounded the village she lived in after she’d stuffed herself full of Christmas dinner and seeing the smiling faces of her younger family members fully enchanted by the Christmas spirit made her heart so warm.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, his subconscious egging him on to ask the question, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Come to mine!” he wanted to exclaim! Because Harry wanted nothing more than to welcome her into his home that would be full of love and joy at Christmas. He didn’t think he’d be able to sit through his family Christmas dinner knowing that Elsie was sat alone in her flat with a TV dinner.

There were other reasons why he wanted her there too, reasons that were fighting to jump out of the box he’d had them stored them away in for so long because of fear and doubt, but now wasn’t a time he was prepared to let them out.

The invitation never came, and instead he mumbled a generic ‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out’ as the thoughts in his brain started eating away at him, and he left her alone in the room.

***

“Did you finish drawing up the plans for Mrs Dean’s guest bedroom today?” Elsie asked as she locked the office door behind them for the night.

“Yeah I did, remind me to give them to you in the morning,” Harry replied, waiting by the door and rocking back on his heels with his hand in his pockets trying to keep them warm.

“Oh brilliant,” she said turning around adjusting her scarf to try and keep out the cold. “I had some ideas for the wallpaper and carpet but I didn’t want to start on a mood board until you’d finished them,” she shrugged.

“Elsie, you’re not supposed to base your design around how I’ve done the plan,” he laughed. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“We’re a team Harry! We’re meant to work around each other, that’s all I was doing,” she grinned cheekily, knowing he wouldn’t argue with her any more.

As they started the familiar route home the fallen autumn leaves whirring around Harry’s feet reminded him of the thoughts that wouldn’t settle in his mind.

Christmas, family, Elsie, work, secret santa, Elsie, Elsie, Elsie.

As the hours ticked by after he’d left her office, Harry had only grown more and more frustrated with himself. Was he truly so selfish as to leave her alone at Christmas to protect his own feelings?

He could already hear the nagging words of his Mum when she would inevitably find out that Elsie spent the holidays by herself. “I did not raise you to be so ignorant and rude, you know she’s always welcome here, why would you not invite her? I have half a mind to make you drive to her house and bring her here now!’ she would probably say, and Harry would agree with her, that he wasn’t raised that way, but he couldn’t tell her the reasons why he never asked.

Every time he’d walked past her office door and he saw the dull look on her face, that didn’t at all match the tinsel and lights that surrounded her, he wanted to kick himself. He’d had a chance to make her happy, and he didn’t take it.

He looked down to where his trusty winter boots trampled across the crumbling leaves and a small smile crept onto his lips at the sight of the pair that walked beside him. It was a familiar sight, but one he still loved. After all this time she was still there, right by him when he needed her most. He couldn’t help but smile, it was just an automatic reaction when it came to Elsie and it had been that way for years. Harry decided that he had to be brave. He couldn’t let her down.

The bitter chill in the air had made her cheeks and the tip of her nose a rosy pink, and as much as the chunky grey scarf that was wrapped around her tried to keep her toasty and warm, it didn’t hide the shivers that made her hands and shoulders shake. Well not from Harry at least.

Harry noticed a lot of things about Elsie. When they met at university some of the first things he noticed were how her nose would always twitch twice before she sneezed, and that she almost never wore matching socks. As they got to know one another it was her kind and gentle nature that Harry was so drawn to. After a few months she’d memorised his lecture timetable and whenever she could, she’d have a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive waiting for him when he got back to the flat.

Harry supposed it was the way they noticed so much about each other that cemented their friendship so quickly into something long lasting.

When they lived together in second and third year he realised quickly how fiercely loyal she was. Never one to leave a friend behind on a group night out, she was always the one to make sure everyone got home safely. When his Grandma Rose passed away and he couldn’t make it back home to be with his family, Elsie was the one quietly slipped out of the house giving him some alone time. When she returned though, she had with her the most beautiful rose he’d ever seen. It hadn’t yet fully bloomed, but she fed it, watered it and loved it right up until they had move out when they graduated. She was the one who kept it alive.

After they got their degree and the idea of setting up their own business together was still just that, an idea, it was her determined spirit that got them off the ground. They’d both refined the skills they were taught at university and their strengths worked perfectly together. All the years of hard work and studying that they’d spent together only made her more confident that they could do it.

If it wasn’t for Elsie, Harry had no idea how his life could have turned out.

And just like the leaves that remained on the tree’s branches, hanging on while the wind blew around them, Harry was running out of time before his idea would tumble to the ground. ‘Come on Harry, be brave,’ he thought.

“Would you wanna spend Christmas with me?” he blurted out quickly before the sudden burst of confidence disappeared.

Her wide eyes told him nothing of what she was thinking, and he tried desperately not to immediately retract the offer in an attempt to save his pride. He could feel a sudden heat in his cheeks despite the icy weather, and he didn’t know what to do to save himself from the embarrassment of being rejected.

Why this had become such a big deal in his mind, Harry couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t ever see her again if she said no, they’d be back at work together in the new year. He supposed it was just something about this time of the year. Christmas always makes everyone so happy. And Harry was happy, he couldn’t be more grateful for everything that he had, but when it seemed to him that everyone around him was spending the holidays with a significant other, it was hard for him to ignore the feelings he’d been holding back for so long.

The gentle touch of a hand grabbing his own pulled him from his never-ending thoughts. Elsie stood with her eyes on him and a smile that Harry knew he’d never forget.

“Harry that’s so kind, I’d love to,” she gleamed.

“Are you sure?” he replied, without thinking.

“Yes, Harry! Of course I am, thank you so much. I promise you won’t even notice I’m there.”

***

Harry was sure she was otherworldly by design. Like a snowflake never the same, because every day he saw something new and different in her, that he thought only made her more beautiful.

The way that the twinkle in her eye was like a glint of sunlight bouncing off of a precious crystal, had him entranced. He thought they should name a crystal after the colour of her eyes.

“Harry!?”

“Huh?” He replied, slightly startled. Looking up quickly from the comfort of his Grandad’s old armchair to where Elsie stood in front of him looking concerned.

“You’re away with the fairies! Are you ok? You seemed miles away,” she asked.

“Sorry, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking about work,” he lied, easily. Over the years Harry had become quite good at thinking up quick excuses after he’d been caught daydreaming about Elsie. It happened more than he’d like to admit.

“Harry, come on now, you need to stop stressing. It’s Christmas Eve, not time for work,” she lightly scalded. “Anyway, I’ve got something to get you in the festive spirit, come on!” She reached for him, and he gladly took her hand as he stood from the chair. He didn’t know where she was taking him, but he was sure he’d follow her anywhere.

***

Wrapped in layers of jumpers and scarves they headed out into the cold. The air was bitter and the ground had a sheen of frost, there hadn’t been snow yet, but thick grey clouds hung low in the sky giving an early warning of the weather to come.

Only the addition of snow would have made the back streets of Harry’s hometown look like one from the front of a christmas card. The towering Victorian town houses already had bushy wreaths full of hops and holly, hanging from different coloured painted wooden doors, and the big bay windows were filled with decorated trees of all sizes, and framed with twinkling lights.

Harry loved his home at Christmas time. Being away from the city he found happiness in the small things, like watching the Robin’s and Chaffinches in the garden while he sipped on his morning tea, rather than having to wait in line at the cafe opposite the office. Being able to spend time with his family at home, was something he never took for granted.

He looked over to his side at Elsie as they rounded the corner onto the main street in town, she seemed happy, content at least. And that was all he could ask for. All the while they’d been at Harry’s Mum’s house he’d taken to paying more attention to Elsie than usual. If that was even possible. He was so worried about her getting down because she wasn’t with her own family he was constantly checking up on her, asking if she was ok.

Having a shower in the morning had become the most stressful part of the day for him. A million questions circled his brain while he was trying to focus on just having a wash. Was she ok without him? Did she need a drink? Had she realised she’d forgotten to pack something and was too shy to ask his Mum to borrow it? Was his sister asking intrusive questions? Was she too cold and needed a blanket? But he couldn’t help her if she needed it or not, he was in the shower. He thought maybe he should change his schedule, to shower when she slept so he wouldn’t stress as much.

Instead he’d rush downstairs as quick as he could, his hair not even dry, the ringlets dropping tiny droplets of water onto the carpet as he went. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he spotted her in the kitchen, she was sitting alone.

“Are you ok?” he fretted, as soon as he walked into the room.

Elsie jumped at the sound of his voice, startled by his entrance that she hadn’t seen. “Bloody hell Harry be careful, I’ve got a boiling tea in my hand, almost made me drop it!” she exclaimed.

“Elsie dear I don’t mean to speak for you,” another voice said, which in turn startled Harry. He’d been so preoccupied with Elsie he hadn’t even noticed his Mum sitting across at the other side if the table. “But Harry love, I get that you’re trying to make our guest comfortable, but stop being so intense, she’s fine,” Anne stressed with a roll of her eyes, and Harry didn’t miss the giggle that escaped from Elsie that she tried to hide behind her mug of tea.

“Right, yeah sorry,” he mumbled.

He made a conscious effort to cool off after that, but he was struggling a bit. What if she was cold now and needed another scarf? Or what if the cold air was giving her a sniffly nose and she needed a tissue?

Elsie turned her head, obviously able to sense his stare, and met his eyes.

“Harry, stop worrying!” she begged. “I can see you getting in your own head, I’m fine!” she laughed from beside him, gripping at his arm and pulling herself closer to him.

When they reached the market square at the end of the main street in the town they wandered through the stalls. Their arms unlinked at some point as their interests took them in different directions, Elsie chatted away to the little old ladies selling charity Christmas cards and Harry stopped by the floristry stall to get a bouquet for his Mum.

“Harry, come look at these!” she called over to him, from where he was now looking at what was left of the seasonal veggies that everyone had clearly bought in time for their Christmas dinner. Only a few rogue sprouts remained.

He joined her at another market stall, one that was a lot more exciting than the vegetables. The table was covered in hand decorated Christmas tree baubles, of all different colours and textures. As they turned and swung gently in the breeze, the winter sun reflected and twinkled from the glittering surfaces.

“Wow they’re so pretty.” he commented, picking one up and inspecting it closely.

“I know, if I was going home for Christmas I would have bought one for Mum to put on the tree like I usually do,” Elsie replied.

It was only in that moment that Harry was reminded of his reality. He’d become so wrapped up in the time he was getting to spend with Elsie, that he’d forgotten that it probably wouldn’t ever happen again. They weren’t supposed to spend Christmas with each other. In the end she’d go back to her own family.

“It’s ok to miss them,” Harry told her.

“I know! But they’ve only gone on a bloody cruise, they’re not dead! I’ll see them next week! Don’t know why I’m moping around so much.” She exclaimed, turning away from Harry and walking back into the bustling market.

***

Out in the hallway, rocking back and forth on his heels and looking down to the small parcel in his hands, Harry’s mind was running over and over. The creaking sound of the floorboards were doing nothing to calm his nerves as he went back and forth deciding whether what he was about to do was a good idea or not.

It was still dark outside, but no stars were out, they’d had their time through the night to come out and shine and watchover the world while it slept, but they’d begun to retreat back behind the clouds to make way for the brightest giant that appeared in the morning.

And Harry thought it best to do what he wanted to do before the sun woke everyone else up.

With a steady hand he lightly pushed open the door beside him, and crept quietly into the room. He could see the stocking, hanging onto the end of the bed frame where his Mum had placed it before Elsie had arrived in the hopes of making her feel more welcome.

“Santa?” a sleepy voice sounded.

He hadn’t noticed in his quest to dodge the cushions that were scattered on the floor on his way to the stocking that Elsie had risen from her sleep.

“Uhhh yeah, sure. It’s me Santa. Go back to sleep,” he tried, not wanting to look up.

“Wait. Harry.. Are you Santa?” she replied excitedly.

He couldn’t help but laugh at that one and he looked up to where she was attempting to crawl across the messed up duvet on the bed to try and see what he was doing.

Her hair looked to Harry like one giant knot, with ends poking out in all different directions, and the remnants of a bit of mascara she’d missed when washing her face the night before were smeared underneath her eyes. The festive Christmas pj’s she had on were bunched up above the fluffy socks that were keeping her feet warm in the cold winter nights, and even though she’d just woken up Harry was sure her eyes were shining as bright as the stars that had just hidden themselves away.

“Well I mean, I do have a gift with me so maybe I am,” he joked.

“For me?” she asked as she reached the edge of the bed closest to where Harry was still stood with the box in his hands.

“Yeah, I was trying to sneak in and put it in your stocking, but I should have remembered from uni how much of light sleeper you are,” he grinned and she giggled.

“This is probably the first time I’ve seen you in your pj’s since then,” she commented.

“Yeah you’re probably right,” Harry replied a little awkwardly, as he definitely hadn’t planned on having Elsie see his Grinch pajamas his Mum had bought him.

“I miss our movie and pj days,” she mused, looking up to him through her lashes.

Harry did too. Any one on one time he got to spend with Elsie he missed. University to Harry now seemed like a distant memory he wasn’t even one hundred percent sure happened, it seemed more like a dream.

He spent pretty much every waking hour with Elsie, having breakfast together before going to lectures and seminars, coming home and cooking tea for each other, sharing a blanket on the sofa in an evening watching the latest ITV drama. It was the simple things.

Sure they worked together now, but it was different. He didn’t get to have his arm draped over her shoulder when they went for lunch at the deli across the street, like he used to be able to when she’d get scared by the film they were watching and wanted somewhere to hide. He couldn’t knock on her office door and complain about all the work they had to do, and then just not do the work and instead spend the rest of the day drinking tea and talking and laughing together.

“Yeah me too, anyway do you want me to leave this in the stocking or take it downstairs and put it under the tree?” he asked, quickly trying to brush over the sensitive topic.

“Can I maybe open it now while you’re here?” she asked tentatively, biting the corner of her bottom lip.

Harry knew he couldn’t say no, even though this was what he’d desperately tried to avoid. “Uh yeah, here you go,” he mumbled, passing over the somewhat neatly wrapped parcel to her.

“Why are you being weird?” she puzzled, slowly taking the package from him.

“I’m not!” he countered quickly.

“Yes you are,” she claimed. “You haven’t moved from that one spot this whole time and you’re just acting funny.”

“Well I don’t know if you even want me in here or not, I wasn’t supposed to be!”

Elsie rolled her eyes. “Harry of course I do, why wouldn’t I?” she huffed as she threw back the covers from where she’d made her way back to the top of the bed and made room for him beside her. “Come on, in you get.”

He shuffled in beside her, quitely relishing in her warmth, but trying not to overstep the boundaries.

He watched her intently as she began to rip the paper from the present, “Merry Christmas Elsie,” he smiled as the last piece of paper fell away to revealing what was inside.

As she held the bauble up in her hands by the loop at the top it began to turn. The teal and gold colours weren’t traditionally ‘christmassy’, but Elsie had never liked to go with the crowd. The light from the rising sun which was barely peeking through the curtains in thin little streams began to bounce and reflect off of the glitter and sparkle which covered the bauble in all different patterns and shapes. Harry watched as the walls became scattered with twinkling light, it looked like the stars had reappeared.

Elsie watched the bauble, and as it spun in her hands, she thought. Thought about Christmas, her family, her home, and Harry. Harry who, throughout all the years they’d known each other had done nothing but care for her and support her. Harry who had brought her into his family home at Christmas and done everything possible to try and make her happy and comfortable. Harry who was timid and shy, but listened intently to everything she had to say. Harry who knew she was missing home, and still found a way to bring home to her.

“Do you like it?” he asked timidly.

Harry saw first a tear that was threatening to escape the corner of her eye when she turned to look at him, and it sparked an instant feeling of worry in his gut.

“No! No it was supposed to make you happy! Not make you cry!” He fretted, reaching out to her and gently wiping away the tear that was rolling down her cheek.

As soon as he’d had the chance to sneak away at the market the day before, he knew he wanted to get her one of the decorations that they’d both been enchanted by. If she couldn’t give one to someone else and hang it on her tree at home as part of her tradition, then he’d give her one to put anywhere she wanted.

Elsie carefully put down the decoration in between them on the bed, and placed her hand on Harry’s that was still settled gently on her cheek. He could feel her beginning to form a smile underneath his hand before he saw it, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Harry I’m so happy you have no idea,” she said. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he whispered, almost to himself.

He wasn’t sure where the confidence came from for him to say that, but he thought it might have had something to do with the way Elsie had intertwined her fingers with his and was gently leaning into his hand. It was only something small, but with Elsie, Harry always noticed.

“I just didn’t want you to have to miss out on your tradition just because you’re here,” he added.

“Thank you Harry you’re an angel,” she gushed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go.

He suddenly became aware of how long he’d been touching her for, he pulled his hand away from her cheek and quickly began picking at the rough edges of his fingers, subconsciously hoping the pain there would distract him from how he noticed that he instantly missed the warmth of her skin.

He could feel her shuffling around next to him, and he took that as a sign for him to move. He’d overstayed his welcome. But as he made his way across her room, she dropped her feet to the floor over the side of the bed and eagerly followed him to the door.

“Where do you think I should put it?” Elsie pondered, holding the decoration up in front of her as she reached him.

“You don’t have to put it anywhere if you don’t want to,” Harry spluttered, backing himself again the door and grabbing hold of the handle getting ready to leave. “I know it’s not your house so you may not feel the same about it and it’s fine, I want you to do what you like with it, but youare allowed to put it up here if you want to, it’s ok mum won’t mind, there’s room on the tree downst-”

Suddenly her hand was on his again pushing the door behind them closed, but her lips were on his too.

It was a new and foreign feeling for Harry but one that he’d dreamt of a thousand times over or more. And if he thought his head was spinning when he was only thinking about it, to actually experience it felt like he’d been turned upside-down and thrown into a different dimension.

Her lips were soft and sweet but she was holding herself against him like she was about to be pulled away. Her fingers had slotted themselves between his own that remained balanced on the door handle and her other arm was trapped between them, her fist gripping onto his t-shirt tightly.

Even though his own hands were resting lightly on her waist, all he wanted to do was throw his arms around her and pull her even closer, hold on to her as tight as he could hoping that she could somehow feel all the love he’d had locked away for her that he was finally letting free.

Their lips moved like a dance that had been rehearsed a hundred times, in sync and working perfectly together. Just like Harry had always hoped they would.

When their lips parted, their foreheads met and the smile that Harry saw on Elsie’s face was the best Christmas present he could have asked for. They spent a minute just feeling the moment, processing what it meant for them and their future. Neither of them pulled away.

Elsie had always known the way Harry looked at her was different, but she wondered if he’d known the way she looked at him was different too. It hadn’t always been that way for her, but her feelings had grown and changed over time. With the way he was with her, how could she not fall for him? He’d always been timid and shy, and Elsie knew it was only right to give him the time he needed to make a decision about her. She knew that Harry was struggling, but she never wanted to push. She could wait.

Harry on the other hand was wondering why he ever waited at all. If he’d known the possibility of rejection would seem so small and feeble compared to the pure bliss of just being able to hold her close he wouldn’t have even waited a day to tell her how he felt.

Looking down at her now, the closest they’d ever been, he was already seeing so much more than he had before. He’d always been mesmerized by her eyes, but seeing up close all the colours that made them what they were, he was sure they must have missed some out of the rainbow. He brought his hand up to her face, his thumb lightly tracing over her soft skin, he still had to make sure this was real.

Biting down on her bottom lip Elsie couldn’t hide the level of pure delight she was feeling being in Harry’s hands, and in her moment of glee she peered up at him through her lashes and placed another short and sweet kiss on his lips.

“Angel,” she giggled.

“My Snowflake,” he whispered.

#1dff #exchanges

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turnupswritessometimes · 5 years

Text

Lavender Eyes - Glimmerdora - Ch4

Title: Lavender Eyes

Chapter: 4

Word Count: 4078

Summary: Adora’s on the football tem. Glimmer’s in band. They think they can’t stand each other, until a series of accidents forces them to open up to each other.

Note: This is also available on Archive of Our Own and it’s probably best to follow it there, as I remember to update it more. I would post a link, but then tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

Adora had tried to come in without making a noise. She had pulled the door to slowly behind her so that it only just caught on the latch, slipping her trainers off with her toes so that she could pad upstairs without making a sound. Both Catra and Adora had long since figured out how to get around the house without making a noise.

She wasn't quiet enough.

"Adora? Is that you?"

That sent an alarm bell through her. Beatrix only had such sharp ears when she was on edge. Otherwise, it was easy to sneak around her.

"Uh, yeah." Adora started down the hall to find Beatrix sat at the dining room table, a salad in front of her for dinner.

"I thought you were out with Catra." Her tone was light and conversational, but she was probing.

She hadn't said that. She had said she was going around Lonnie's.

So Catra was out too. And had assumed Adora would cover for her. For a moment, she considered getting her own back for the night of the game.

She couldn't do that.

"Yeah, I didn't feel too good, so I came home. She's met up with a few of the girls from the team." Taken out of context, the first part wasn't a lie.

"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Beatrix was up in the next moment, a hand against Adora's forehead. "Have you taken painkillers? Do you want me to make a hot water bottle up for you?"

"I'm okay now," Adora said quickly. She was backstepping and wondering why she wanted to avoid those hands. They were cold, but the house was cold. Everything was cold here. "I was just going to get some work done."

"You're not doing work if you don't feel well." Beatrix was taking her wrist, pulling her into the living room and sitting her on the sofa. Adora remained limp. She had tried to resist this mollycoddling before and knew that Beatrix's fingers could close like a bony shackle and hold her fast. "Though Catra should have come home with you."

"I didn't want to drag her home."

"It's your responsibility to take care of her, Adora." Beatrix was pulling the stray hair away from Adora's face. "She's not like you, she'll get into all sorts of trouble."

"We're the same age." Adora tried to keep her tone gentle. They were approaching thin ice and she didn't want to fall through to the freezing cold waters underneath. "Catra can handle herself."

There was a sharp yank on her ponytail before she could even gasp. There were the eyes again - eyes like a demon - inches from her face.

"Will you say that when she ends up passed out on the street? In the hospital? Dead?" her foster-mother snarled. The pain of her nails in her hair made Adora's eyes water. "The two of you think you can go around and do anything and neither of you think of what might happen to you? Neither of you think of me! I slave away to make you both large, healthy dinners every night and then both of you turn around and spit in my face! Going out and eating elsewhere and leaving me on my own! Selfish!"

Adora was finally released, her head jerking forward so hard it almost hit her knees. She couldn't catch her breath for a moment, especially not with Beatrix's shadow looming over her. Waiting for a response.

"I'll make something," Adora managed to gasp out. "And I'll have dinner with you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Adora." There were those hands again - gentle now. Like when she used to soothe her from nightmares. "That's all I ask."

Adora shoved a frozen pizza in the oven and tapped her feet on the bottom of the kitchen stool as she waited for it. She listened to her foster mother talk endlessly about her day and nodded in all the right parts.

She got the pizza out, managed to rattle off the parts of school that would be approved of. Test scores and coursework and praise given by her teachers. How well training was going.

Nothing about Glimmer.

Glimmer's house had been warm. She only realised when she opened the oven and was greeted by a blast of warm air. Their house had been warm and Glimmer had warm hands. They wouldn't have to bundle up in multiple socks and jumpers and shiver all the way through winter because it wasn't cold enough to justify the central heating.

She wondered what dinner there would have been like. Sat around the table with Glimmers glamorous mother. Probably not a homemade stew or soup. Probably the kind of pre-made party food that was advertised around Christmas. Tiger prawns and mini quiches. It would probably be loud. Probably involved Bow and Glimmer teasing each other relentlessly and Glimmer's mum joining in.

The thought out her off her pizza. She managed to make up an upcoming Spanish test and slunk upstairs.

Adora had every intention to finally study. She pulled out her books and sat down on her bed to read them.

The next thing she knew was Catra's voice in her ear and her shoulder being shaken.

"Catra!" she jerked away, raising a hand to her face to protect herself.

Catra pulled it down. "Sssh! Don't want to wake the sleeping dragon."

"Did you climb through my window?" Adora hissed.

"Yeah? You're right above the garage. I do it all the time."

"I'm sleeping in here Catra."

"And I've never woken you."

"That's creepy."

Catra shrugged. It was the movement that sent the smell to Adora's nose.

"Have you been smoking?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"Why not? We tell each other everything."

"Because you'll tell Beatrix."

"I won't. Promise."

Catra sighed and Adora saw her roll her eyes in the dark. She caught the smell again. Stronger this time.

"Lonnie has this friend, Rogelio, he brought a joint."

"A joint?!"

"Oh, relax. There was only enough for like, two drags each."

"It smells like more."

"Well, weed smells." Catra shoved some of the books out of the way, plopping herself onto Adora's bed. "She covered for you, by the way."

"What?"

"Lonnie covered for you. Beatrix phoned her, no idea how she got her number, but she covered for you."

"I covered for you too."

"So where were you?"

"With a friend."

"All your friends are my friends, Adora."

Something about the way she said it made it sting.

"Not these ones."

"Who?" Catra waited for a response, then leant back. “No, wait – I know. That Bow kid.”

“What are you talking about?” Adora forced a laugh that wasn’t convincing.

“You mentioned them the other day – didn’t even know they were on your radar.” Catra grinned and her teeth flashed like fangs in the moonlight. “God, Beatrix will be pissed if she found out you were hanging out with a fag and a dyke.”

"Shut up, Catra."

"They're just so - nothing like you at all. Like everything that people hate about sjws all rolled into one."

"I said shut up!" Adora snapped.

Catra paused. She looked at her, toying with her bottom lip with her teeth. The motion made Adora's stomach jump.

"Just remember, Adora, they're not the ones who have your back on the field."

And with that, Catra slinked from her room. Adora glared after her, then through a punch into her pillow. She wasn't even sure why she was so angry.

She hated Catra when she was like this. She hated her foster mother when she was like this.

But she hated herself most of all.

Glimmer didn't act like nothing had happened. The team always carried on as usual, but not Glimmer.

No she had to run to Adora in the middle of the hallway, keychain on her bag jingling loudly enough to attract everyone around that's attention.

"Are you feeling any better?" She asked.

People were looking. Lonnie slammed her locker closed, turning dark eyes onto Adora.

"You can't do this," Adora said. "Not here."

"Be your friend?" Glimmer smiled, but it dropped at the expression on Adora's face.

"The team-"

"Can't know that we're friends," Glimmer finished. Her eyes hardened and her jaw set. "Fine. Will I be giving you a lift home today, sir knight?"

"Glimmer," Adora wasn't even saying her name, it just came out as she exhaled.

"Find your own ride, Adora." Glimmer pushed past her, pulling her oversized cardigan around her.

She opened her mouth – even though she had no idea what she was going to say. She ended up just staring after Glimmer as she stopped and greeted Bow. She still had a face like thunder and the two of them glanced back at her. Adora turned her back, pushing hair away from her face and waiting for Lonnie to catch up with her.

“What’s that about?” Lonnie asked.

Adora wasn’t good at lying. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, didn’t seem like nothing.” Lonnie crossed her arms, shifting her weight as she looked after Glimmer. “Didn’t she hug you at the game the other day?”

“What? No!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t forget that hair anywhere,” Lonnie said. She scoffed, and raised her voice as they walked past. “I mean, honestly, pink hair with a red uniform? And they call me a fashion disaster.”

Adora couldn’t help it, she glanced back. Just in time to see Glimmer’s face crumple as she turned away, facing Bow. Her eyes caught on the hairs sticking up at the nape of her neck – they were undyed. What would Glimmer look like with brown hair? She didn’t want to know. That would be too boring. Too normal.

Too much like her.

“I think it’s-“

“You hugged her at the match.”

“Did someone knock you over, or something?”

“What are you bitches talking about?” Catra’s arms hooked around Adora and Lonnie’s necks and she looked at both of them. There was a strong smell around her that Adora tried to ignore.

“Just wondering why Adora’s so pally with pinky.” It seemed as though Lonnie was leaning into Catra’s touch, smiling up at her.

“I’m not,” Adora snapped. She caught herself. “I’m – I’m not, okay?”

“And yet you keep getting into her junkyard bait of a car.” Catra had the smile that she wore when she was getting other people into trouble.

Adora ducked out from under her arm. “Get fucked, Catra.”

She felt like the teen in a movie with a secret that made them touchy – shit, she was a teenager with a secret that made her touchy. She didn’t want to talk about Glimmer. Talking about Glimmer would make it real. It would force her to acknowledge things. Things that were changing. She wouldn’t be able to have the football team and Glimmer and Bow. There was always going to be a choice from day one. And she knew the choice. The choice that was safe and –

Straight.

The longer she stayed with Glimmer and Bow the more she was wrapped up in believing that it would be okay. That she would be able to come out one day. That was a dangerous thought. Bow and Glimmer were the dangerous choice.

But they were also the happy choice.

She wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t find Glimmer after training. That her car was already gone from the parking lot. Adora deserved that. She deserved to be completely ignored and never spoken to again.

The surprise was that Bow was leaning against her cruiser, his phone in his hand. A rose gold charm hung from it. A tiny heart and a tiny arrow.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Bow looked up then and spoke completely casually. “Waiting for you.”

“Come to drag me across the coals?”

“For a lift, actually.”

“What?”

“Oh, right – manners.” Bow cleared his throat, drawing his shoulders back and puffing his chest up. “Adora, may I please have a lift in your, might I say, beautiful car?” He paused a moment, then stroked the top of it. “I must say, you have chosen a spiffing colour, my dear lady.”

Adora found herself laughing – against every feeling she had in the last twenty four hours, she was laughing.

“Just get in, you dork.”

Bow did, flashing her a very shiny grin and climbing up into the passengers seat. She tossed her bags into the back and settled herself behind the wheel.

“So, you really didn’t come to give me a bullocking?” she asked, reversing out of the parking space.

“You mean about the whole ‘we can only be friends in secret’ thing?”

“Mm.”

“I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t have the guts to stand up to the football team either. Those girls are mean.”

“Are you saying I’m a coward?” She swung onto the main road with more force than she should have.

“I would never. Like I said, you girls are mean.” Bow gave a dramatic shiver. “I would imply it, though.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Oh no?”

“No.”

"And yet you couldn't stand up for Glimmer..." Bow tapped his fingers on the dashboard.

"What did you want me to say? That - that I like her hair?" Adora's hands were shakin and she gripped the steering wheel tighter. "That it's cute and fluffy like a cloud and she looks like some kind of angel? Yeah, no. That's not - that's-"

"Pretty, gay, Adora."

"Oh, says the guy who is gay."

"I know it when I see it."

"I'm not." Adora gave a huff-laugh. It sounded panicky. "I'm not gay."

"No, of course not." For a moment Bow sounded genuine, then he smiled. "But if you were, you'd be into Glimmer."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Bow paused. "How long have you known?"

Adora sighed. Her key was swaying from where it was lodged in the car and it was distracting.

"A while. Since I realised the perks of playing football."

Bow nodded. He stared out the window for a moment, then fixed dark eyes on Adora.

"Park round the back of my house. We need to talk."

"That doesn't sound ominous."

"Oh, that was the aim." Bow still sounded cheery, and it put Adora's teeth on edge. But she still did as she was asked, following Bow’s rather awful instructions around to Glimmer’s neighbourhood. He really did live just down the road from her. And Bow’s house had a white picket fence – because of course it did. That was how perfect a neighbourhood he came from. Adora parked and leant back in the car, wondering what she was supposed to see.

“Give it a moment, they’re always out at this time,” Bow said, checking his watch. He continued to tap at the dashboard and Adora continued to watch. There was a horrible twisted feeling in her stomach.

Then the back door of Bow’s house opened and, through the fence, Adora could see two men coming out from the house. One had his arm around the other’s shoulder’s and they were both laughing about something.

“Those are my dads,” Bow said.

Adora heard herself give a sharp sigh. “I’m not against – I’m not homophobic. I don’t have a problem with-“

“That’s not what I was thinking.” Bow leant back, watching the pair sit at the garden table with a couple of ciders, still looking at each other like the other one was a rare treasure. “I was thinking that someone you know wouldn’t approve if they knew?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Bow had one hand on the door handle. “I guess I’ll see you at school?”

He had one foot out of the car when Adora said it – she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure why she trusted Bow with this.

“My mom.”

Bow slid back into the car, without a word.

“I mean, my foster mom. She – being gay, that’s not – it doesn’t fit with her image of the perfect daughter. And I am. At least, I was. But now I’m – I’m hanging out with people she despises and not – not studying and I’m not what she wants me to be.”

Bow stayed staring at her for a long time, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes focused on Bow’s dads. They were talking, leaning towards each other. Looking at each other like the other was perfect.

“My dads didn’t get it,” Bow finally said. “Ironic, right? But I just thought they wouldn’t understand the whole trans thing. For years I was terrified to tell them – I was going by Bow for ages before – before Glimmer helped me get the courage up to – to tell them who I really was. And they were…fine. They loved me no matter what.”

“That’s great, Bow.” Adora’s voice cracked. “I’m really glad that it’s worked out for you.”

“What I’m saying is – you probably have nothing to worry about. Whatever she wants you to be, she’ll love you anyway.”

Adora was smiling, but it was forced, fixed and nostalgic.

“I don’t think so. She’s not-“

“You never know. People surprise you.”

“No. No, you don’t know what she’s like.” She could still feel the ache on the back of her head. She took a long breath out. “Do me a favour and not tell Glimmer any of this?”

“Oh, of course not. As long as you don’t tell her that she was the kick I needed to come out to my parents.”

“Sure thing.”

Bow climbed out of the car, but kept a hand on the roof as he leant to see in.

“I did tell Glimmer I wouldn’t say anything,” he said. “But for the record, if you were gay, there’s a strong chance she’d be into you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Bow shrugged and closed the car door. He unlatched the gate and gave a final wave to Adora. She hadn’t moved. Her brain was struggling to process any of this conversation. Any of what she’d just admitted. She just stared ahead of her, feeling like a blown fuse and only blinked herself back to reality when Bow waved before going into the gate.

Then she drove home.

Glimmer stubbornly ignored her the next day. Adora noticed that her voice was a little too loud and her laugh just a little too long. She was being punished she knew. There had been a test of her loyalties and she had failed. But why was that a fail? A fail implied she had gotten it wrong.

Did she want to get it right?

The thought was enough to almost send her stumbling in practice again. She was feeling things more now – the thud of the ground under her feet and the bash of the ball against her skin. If she didn’t know better, she would assume that Catra was actually trying to hurt her.

Bow was outside her car again when she had finished getting changed. She felt completely exhausted, and didn’t acknowledge him as she climbed in to the driver’s side.

“So, your mom hates the gays.”

“Pink hair too.”

“And what’s your opinion of pink hair, Adora?”

“Get fucked.” But she was smiling despite herself. Then she sighed. “I want to still hang out with you and Glimmer. I really do, it’s just-“

“The football team.”

“Would you stop finishing my sentences?”

“It’s a gift,” Bow said. “It comes right down to what it did a few weeks ago, doesn’t it? The team.”

“They’re my friends. My family.”

“And they hate that you aren’t like them. That you might want to hang out with the freaks and the weirdos.”

“You aren’t freaks, or weirdos.” Adora beeped the person in front of her. They were driving too slow for her liking and she was running out of patience. “You’re great fun and you’re happy and I enjoy your company.”

“Then what does it matter what Catra thinks?”

“It’s easy for you. You’ve clearly never cared what anyone thinks.”

“Oh, I used to.” Bow rolled down the window, resting his elbow on it. “But then I decided it was much more fun to annoy everyone by just existing.”

“And that takes guts. More guts than I have.”

“Really, Adora?” Bow was smiling when he looked at her. “You can fearlessly charge into seven foot giants, but you can’t stand up for yourself?”

“That’s different. That’s…”

“Easy?”

“How do you do that?”

“I’m good with people.”

Adora laughed. Which made Bow laugh. She turned up the radio and let him dance along to the songs because she was done being serious for one day. Done thinking in general.

She drove home, turning the radio off and instead trying desperately to remember the Disney songs that Glimmer always used to sing. She didn't have any cds in the car, but now she wished she did.

Catra was on the end of her bed, still in her track shorts and t-shirt with sweat stains down it.

"You're disgusting," Adora dumped her bag at the door. Normally she would sit on the bed, but something made her pause. "Go take a shower."

"Hey Adora," Catra smiled. "Not with your little friends today?"

"I dropped Bow off at his house.”

“Glitter’s still not speaking to you?” Catra examined her nails, tapping her foot.

“It’s Glimmer.”

“Yet, she left glitter in your car.”

“Are you here for any reason, Catra?”

Catra stood, taking her time as she stalked over to Adora. She swayed her hips and Adora forced her eyes away from the movement, swallowing heavily. She felt her cheeks warm and hated that.

“I just wanted to know,” Catra said. “Why this all came about.”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Don’t you?” Catra shook her head. “You don’t hang out with us anymore. You don’t speak to us anymore.”

“Because you all act like bitches for no reason!” Adora said. Her voice broke. “What the hell did Bow do to you that made you hate him? What the hell did Glimmer do?”

“Right now they’re taking my best friend away!”

“Don’t be so childish! Just because they’re not you, Catra.”

“They’re not you either, Adora.” Catra’s lip quirked into a snarl and she was close to Adora. Close enough to smell the sweat still on her skin. “They’re nothing like you.”

“Maybe they’re not,” Adora said. “But at least they’re not bitches.”

Catra’s eyes narrowed. It looked as though she was bearing her teeth at Adora. She pushed past her, hard enough to nudge her back into the corridor, without saying a word.

Adora regretted it instantly. She hadn’t meant to take it that far. Hadn’t meant to be so cutting. She hadn’t meant to ignite that hatred in Catra’s arms. But it had just scared her. It had scared her because they were something like Adora. They were the something like Adora that she wanted to be.

It felt as though they had crossed a threshold of no return. Even if she went back to hanging out with the football team – even if she tried to make everything go back to normal, it couldn’t.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted it to. Now she had taken that first step, she didn’t want to go back to normal. To biting her tongue and turning a blind eye. To hiding in the closet. To pretending that Glimmer wasn’t her friend.

Glimmer was her friend and she was clever and happy and –

Beautiful.

Adora had called her beautiful and she had meant it. She didn’t want to cut Glimmer out of her life. She wanted to be her friend. To be friends. To be happy.

But Glimmer didn’t forgive easily and that was something that Adora knew all too well. No, it would take something else – something big to show her that Adora had changed her mind. That she had changed it and meant it.

She sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. Her stomach was still in knots about Catra, but Catra was Catra and she moved on easily. Catra blew hot and cold like a cat without the arguments. Glimmer – Glimmer was what she focused on.

It might just have been the first time she had come home from school and hadn’t done work. Instead, she wracked her brains for some grand gesture, thinking back on all the conversations her, Bow and Glimmer had.

Then it came to her and she smiled.

Adora had a plan.

#spop #spop glimmer #spop adora #spop fanfiction #she ra and the princesses of power #turnupswrites #she ra #she ra fanfiction

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spacerockwriting · 5 years

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Like Home

Thanks to @littlerose13writes for the prompt!

Day 2: Molly’s Christmas Jumpers

Read on A03

The first winter Albus is in Hogwarts, he goes to pull on a warm jumper from his Gran. The dungeons are cold this time of year, and the comfort of home brings him back to the place he’d rather be. As of right now, he hates Hogwarts, and he hates school, and he hates almost everything magic. He misses his mum and dad, and even his little sister.

The only plus side of Hogwarts so far is one person, and that’s his best friend Scorpius. Scorpius was currently his only friend at school. He was the first person that didn’t laugh at Albus, or succumb to the stupid nickname of Cry Baby Slytherin. Scorpius was kind; he was thoughtful, and he was the best possible friend Albus could imagine.

One particularly cold evening Scorpius notices Albus pulling out the warm garment. Its hand knitted, he can tell, but it doesn’t seem to be designer or even look to be from a store. He knows it’s probably a family thing, because he notices the same type of knitted sweater on several other students at the school, most being family members of Albus.

“Albie,” Scorpius asks one day while they were sitting on their beds. It was almost curfew for first years, and they had been doing a lot more studying for end of term finals. Scorpius notices Albus huddled tight in one of the worn jumpers.

That was another thing Scorpius noticed about the jumpers. They were always well worn and always very loved in. He could see how some of them had frayed and started to unwind, and how some of them had ripped holes in them. All of them appeared to be the same pattern, however.

“Yeah?” Albus looked up from where he was sitting.

“What’s with the jumper? I’ve seen them around the school, on your brother and cousins. How come?”

Albus scoots his sleeves over his hands. “Oh. Gran makes them every Christmas. One for everyone in the family. I’ve gotten them since I was born. Sometimes she does our names, but lately she’s starting to get more creative and do pictures. I guess it’s hard when some people have the same letters in their names.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Scorpius tugs his blanket closer to his body.

“Did you want to borrow one of mine? I have an extra. It’s from the Christmas before last.” Albus goes to rummage in his trunk and pulls the old jumper out, handing it to Scorpius.

Scorpius tugs the jumper on. It’s a bit tight, as Albus is a bit smaller than him, but it’s warm, and he takes comfort in the warm item in their cold dormitory.

Scorpius hopes one day to have a jumper of his very own.

Scorpius does not want to go home this holiday. He does not want to be home with just his father in the cold, cold, manor. He doesn’t want to be reminded of carols he sang last Christmas with his mother, or the crest fallen snow she so adored. Scorpius wants to skip Christmas, skip everything.

But he needs to be with his father this year. His father needs him, as they’re all they’ve got left now. His father’s parents are getting older, and his mother’s parents are still in mourning. Scorpius does not want to be around so much dread, but he knows he’s got no choice.

The evening before they leave for the train, Albus receives a thick parcel. Albus tells Scorpius he can’t open it until they’re on the train tomorrow, much like how they always do their gifts. Since they can’t be together on the holiday, the train ride is the next best thing.

Scorpius snags the last compart on the train, much like he does since he’s started Hogwarts. Him and Albus like sitting where no one can bother them, and they like to spread in the compartment and just be together before they’re both sent home.

It’s Scorpius’ first Christmas without his mum, and Albus doesn’t ask him anything. He was at the funeral; he knows Scorpius isn’t happy with it.

“I got you a present,” Albus says to Scorpius. “If you still want it,” he says.

Scorpius’ eyes light up, but only slightly. They haven’t sparkled since last year. “I got you something, too. Mine first,” Scorpius says, and Albus just nods. Albus unwraps a new sketchbook, similar to the one he always carries around with him. He smiles at Scorpius.

“Thanks, Scorp. I love it. My old one is almost done.”

“I know! I saw you using it during History of Magic last week. It’s really good. You’re a good drawer.”

Albus blushes; compliments still make him nervous. He never knows how to respond. But, he decides, Scorpius is probably like his mum, or his Gran: they’d like his art no matter how terrible it is.

“I hope you don’t mind this; I couldn’t find that book you wanted.” Albus had spent hours searching for that copy of that one book Scorpius had wanted this year. As far as Albus knew, it was currently out of print and wouldn’t be printed for another year or so, since it was a textbook used at one of the other magical schools. He hands Scorpius over the lumpy package.

As the blond unwraps, his eyes widen. Inside was a jumper, hand knitted. It was different colours, with patches all over. There was a note attached, too, and Scorpius goes to read it.

Scorpius,

Albus told me about your mother passing away. I’m so terribly sorry, dear. I know we have not met, but anyone who befriends my ickle Albie is a friend of mine, and everyone deserves to have the comfort and warmth of a mother’s hug.

Don’t be a stranger, dear.

Hugs and kisses,

Molly (Albus’ Gran)

Scorpius’ smile creeps back to his face. “Al, I love it! It’s great!” He slips the jumper on and immediately feels the warmth and comfort of a warm hug.

“I know it’s not the same as your own mum but—“

Scorpius nods, and wraps his arms around himself. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, and it’s the best thing he’s received all year.

He wears it until the threads fall apart.

The final winter holiday of the year is an exciting one. All the family are gathered in the Burrow, Scorpius and his father included. Since starting Hogwarts, the Malfoys and the Potters had become somewhat acquaintances, and even tolerated each other enough for their son’s sake. Their sons, who were now boyfriends.

This was the first real Christmas the two had spent together. Last Christmas Albus was nursing a broken heart, and now, it was mending. Scorpius couldn’t be happier to stand beside his boyfriend in his grandmother’s house for the holidays.

Everyone was gathered, and those who weren’t, would be arriving soon.

“Where’s your brother?” Scorpius asks, sipping on his cup of cider.

“Being fashionably late, like always.” Albus rolls his eyes, and when he hears a thump, and a cry of James Potter, he knows his brother has arrived.

James had gotten signed right out of Hogwarts to play quidditch. Since then, his life has been training and matches, and whatever sorts of calendar shootings, interviews, and anything else that quidditch professionals do. Albus didn’t pay too much attention to his brother’s career.

Albus lets out a snort as his older brother enters the house. James is making a scene, like always. Instead of his usual dark auburn floppy hair, part of it had been dyed the colours of his quiddtch team, with half a side shaved with the team’s initials in it.

“You really had to go and give Gran a heart attack on Christmas, didn’t you?” Albus teases his brother with a smirk. His brother just rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be the one to talk, Albie. I’m not the one that ditched getting a haircut to pierce my lip.” He reaches out to ruffle his little brother’s hair. “’Sides, can’t back down from a bet when you’re on a team. Ask Mum,” James says with a smirk. “Word got around that the Harpies all got pixies in Mum’s first year. Some sort of team comradery. You would know that if you were on a team.” He reaches out to flick his brother’s lip ring.

“Al’s playing quidditch this year,” Scorpius announces. “He made the team second term last year after an injury happened.”

James smirks. “Oh yeah?” He raises a brow at his little brother. “You didn’t tell me,” he says.

“Al’s trying to be quiet about it,” Scorpius replies. “So he doesn’t get too stressed and, well.” Scorpius doesn’t continue, and James goes quiet.

Whenever fifth year is brought up, James goes quiet, which is abnormal. Although, Scorpius is pretty sure that seeing your little brother in a hospital with tubes tied to him is something that is haunting. For himself, to see Albus wrapped in hospital gowns and tubes, was haunting.

He doesn’t want to think about that.

“Okay, okay,” Molly calls. “It’s time for gifts,” she calls out, and it’s like everyone is a child again. The grandchildren all scatter to their respective spots, Scorpius keeping his hands linked to Albus. The adults all gather on the various couches.

When the packages are all sorted out, Molly stands back and waits, before saying, “Okay, go!” Paper is thrown about, and cheers, moans, and groans all erupt simultaneously. Some are thrilled with their colours, some aren’t.

Scorpius sits back and watches his boyfriend open his parcel. Everyone knows they’re jumpers, but everyone is still surprised regardless, or at least acts surprised. Molly smiles, watching as her children and grandchildren open their gifts.

“Oh, I forgot,” she says and goes over to hand one of the parcels to Scorpius. “Sorry dear, I didn’t see you behind Albus. Happy Christmas, Scorpius,” she says and bends down to kiss his cheek.

Scorpius unwraps the parcel and smiles at it. It’s the same patchwork of colours and yarn from the jumper Molly had knitted him after his mother died. Al had told him that it had so many various pieces of yarn because she didn’t have enough of one colour. The theme seems to be replicated in this jumper, only with one noticeable difference. In silver script seems to be the name Scorpius written across the breast of where a pocket would be.

“Welcome to the family dear,” Molly says as Albus kisses Scorpius on the lips softly.

Scorpius puts the jumper on and all feels warm again.

It feels like home.

#shipmas 2018 #scorbus #Scorpius Malfoy #albus severus potter #james sirius potter #Like Home #ccsquad

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robronsecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Fanfic: ‘Tis the season

to @endlessemptyrambling, love from your secret santa

“Aaron there’s no way that’s going to fit.” He could barely see him, he was so obscured.

“Yes it will! Just hold it up like I said!”

Robert scoffed but did as he was told. He was cold and he wanted to go home. Why they couldn’t buy a Christmas tree from David like everyone else, or even have an artificial tree he didn’t know, but Aaron had declared on waking up that morning that they had to go out and buy a tree. Of course it had to be the right tree and none of David’s matched that description.

“You know when I do this in a clothes shop you do nothing but complain.” He told him as he let go of the tree as Aaron moved on to another.

“That’s because you’re usually comparing two white shirts!”

“It’s a tree, it has branches…and bloody sharp needles.” He pulled another one out of his glove to prove his point. Not that it mattered, Aaron was far too interested in the trees. He stamped his feet trying to get some warmth into his legs. Of course they’d picked the coldest weekend of the winter to do this.

They didn’t talk about last Christmas, it was one of those things they’d packed away in a little box, they didn’t need to keep revisiting it. In the end though it had brought them here, to where they were now. Instead they’d decided that as it was their first Christmas back together, in their own home they’d make their own traditions.

“This one.” Aaron nodded, hands on hips, a smile filling his face, pointing to the one he’d chosen.

“Are you sure? We don’t need to check it’s the right shade of green or anything do we?” He smirks as Aaron sticks his tongue out at him and he shook his head, happy to see him so carefree. Robert paid for the tree, arranging delivery for the same afternoon, glad that they didn’t have to wrangle thing thing onto one of their cars, and went back to Aaron who was standing in the middle of a bauble display.

“S’pose we need some of these, don’t we and lights and that?”

“I, er, I have some…I mean we need more, but Vic kept a load, said she’d share them between us, she kept them when Dad died. Some of them are Mum’s, there’s probably some from before that…” He stopped when he saw Aaron frowning.

“We can stop and get them on the way home if you want.” Robert nodded, the memories coming at once. They didn’t speak again until they were on the road home, the radio playing Christmas songs quietly, neither of them really taking much notice. “You can talk about it you know.”

“What? The decorations?”

“Your childhood. You don’t, very often, and I’m just sayin’ if it’s because of me, because of…well, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to tell me things from when you were a kid.” He can’t speak for a minute, the fact that Aaron always seems to know what he needs always astounds him. Instead he reaches a hand out and gently squeezes his thigh. They have been doing that more though in the few months since they got back together, talking more, listening to each other, trying to make time for just the two of them. It’s not exactly easy with Liv around and Gerry in and out all the time, although he could still be living in the Mill with them, so it could be worse.

“I will, it’s just hard you know.” As they’re at the traffic lights he risks leaning over to kiss him, as his phone lights up.

“Liv wants to go ice skating.” He informs him, reading the message.

“Place to ourselves then, whatever will we do?”

“No, at the weekend, with us.” He’s furiously texting back, brow furrowed. “Says there’s an outdoor rink in Leeds. Might be fun.”

“Getting a numb arse because I keep falling onto it…mmm fun.” He’s grinning as he says it, it might not be his first idea of a good time but the fact that Liv is back to including him with Aaron when she wants to do things is good. It had taken a while to get back to that point, and he’d been convinced that their relationship would never recover.

They’ve been back together a few months, officially, probably much longer unofficially, taking things slow, doing all the things they hadn’t before, more time to themselves. It took a long time for him to move back in, but now they were a family again.

“We don’t have to skate. Just be nice, the three of us doing stuff. We could go eat somewhere, make a day of it?” He looks over, sees Aaron’s hopeful face and he knows he’s lost.

“Fine. Tell her she owes me an extraordinarily expensive hot chocolate while we’re there.”

*****

“Are we doing this tree then?” It’s Sunday and they’ve been back from lunch at Diane’s a while, another relatively new thing, and they’re lounging on the sofa, Liv at the table pretending to study, though he’s pretty sure she’s actually texting. The tree is in place in the corner, has been since it was delivered, taking up, in his opinion, more room than is absolutely necessary but none of them have made an attempt to decorate it.

“Might as well.” He tries hard but Aaron just can’t keep the smile off his face. Not that he moves far though.

“Come on Liv, stick some Christmas music on.”

“Oh God, really?”

“Yes. Can’t decorate a tree without singing along. Come on lazy arse, get up.” He nudges at Aaron’s legs, resting up on the table, when he makes no attempt to move. “You’re the one who spent over an hour picking the perfect specimen.”

It doesn’t take long before the three of them are laughing and joking and singing along to the music that’s blasting out of the speakers. It’s when his fingers close around a decoration shaped like Father Christmas that he stops. Aaron doesn’t notice at first but then he’s by his side, hand on his back making him feel warm.

“I bought her this, saved my pocket money. I’d seen it when Gran took me shopping and I made my Dad take me back to buy it. He didn’t half grumble, but she loved it. Always hung it right at the front of the tree, every year.” Even Liv is quiet when Aaron gently takes the figure from his hand and hangs it in pride of place, right at the front. It’s a bit worse for wear, some of the paint is chipped and it’s probably better off in the bin, but it looks strangely right.

“There. Perfect.” He nods, can feel tears aren’t far away, then he’s making an excuse, says he’ll make hot chocolate for them, so he can have a few moments alone.

“You alright?” He knew Aaron wouldn’t let him wallow in memories too long, and he’s always grateful for that, smiling to himself as Aaron’s arms slide round his waist.

“Yeah. I just miss her, that’s all. Always worse this time of year.” He rests his cheek against Aaron’s hair, hands rubbing his back. It’s soothing just standing there, Aaron’s jumper bunching under his fingers. “Better now though, with you. Never had anyone to tell before.”

“You can always talk to me.” He nods, taking a deep breath. It’s still strange to him that he has someone to talk to about his Mum. He probably could have told Chrissie things like this but it never seemed right, but now with Aaron, he can and more importantly he wants to.

“I know that. Come on, or these drinks will be cold.” Aaron pulls away with one more pat on the back and between them they take the mugs and a plate of the chocolate biscuits that are a permanent fixture on their shopping list, into the living room.

*****

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” He’s standing in the bedroom doorway tying his tie. Aaron’s lounging on the bed in trackies and a hoodie, car magazine in hand and Robert would give anything to join him but he’s got a client’s Christmas party to go to. It’s the first one he’d been to since he moved back in, Nicola going to those there have been, and he’s nervous for some reason.

“Not really my thing is it. Besides, gives me a chance to wrap your Christmas present without you snooping.” He still hesitates, fiddling with his cufflinks needlessly. “Robert, go to your party, it’s alright. Don’t know why you want me there, I always get tongue tied at those things.”

“Maybe I just want my…” He stops, feels even more stupid now but Aaron’s getting up and coming over to him.

“Your husband?”

“Yeah…if that’s still what I am.” Maybe that’s it, they’ve never mentioned it, but Aaron’s not wearing his ring again yet, all part of them taking their time. He’s not ready yet and it’s fine, it is but he feels like he doesn’t know what they are. Maybe he’s just being overly insecure.

“What? My husband?” He nods, feeling stupid under Aaron’s gaze. “Does it matter…what I mean is…does it matter what you call me when you talk to people? I don’t know, do you tell people I’m your husband, what do you call me?”

“Aaron.” He shrugs. “Husband I suppose, but…that doesn’t feel right anymore, I lost that, so…I don’t know. You’re my Aaron.”

“Soppy git.” He’s all smiles as he wraps his arms around him. “We’re not really boyfriends though are we, we’re more than that. Besides that always makes me think of snogging round the back of the cricket pavilion. When I call you my husband it makes me feel nice, special I suppose. I don’t care what you call me, Robert, we know what we mean to each other.”

“You are. I’m just being an insecure idiot. Er, hang on, let’s go back. There’s nothing wrong with snogging behind the cricket pavilion. I’ll have you know…” He stops as Aaron puts his hand over his mouth to stop him talking.

“I’d stop right here unless you want to hear about me and your sister.” He shook his head and gently nipped at his fingers until Aaron pulled them away. “Exactly. So, go to your party and if you’re lucky I won’t have fallen asleep by the time you get back.” He presses a soft kiss to his mouth and nudges him towards the door.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Course. Love you too you soft git. Now go!”

*****

“You should have seen your face!” Liv’s laughing as they all troop into the pub, back from ice skating. She’d cottoned on pretty quick to their plan to be spectators and wouldn’t let up until they joined her on the ice. Robert’s always liked to think he has a fair amount of grace and poise. That idea was well and truly destroyed, along with most of his pride.

“That kid went right in front of me! What was I supposed to do, plough into him?”

“Better him than me!” Aaron grumbles leaning against the bar.

“You three look like you’ve had fun.” Chas is all smiles as she takes their order. Liv launches into the tale of them ending up in a heap on the ice, complete with pictures.

“You do know I can ground you, right?” Aaron tells her, with a grin.

“So, have you made your minds up about Christmas day yet?” Chas asks putting their drinks in front of them. Aaron glances over at him and he does nothing but shrug. It wasn’t so long ago that he thought he wouldn’t have either of them at Christmas so he’s fairly unconcerned as long as they’re together.

The Dingles hadn’t really said much about them being back together, except Charity, but he’d think she was ill if she didn’t greet him with a sarcastic comment or two. The rest just seemed pleased that Aaron was happy. He’d been worried most about Chas and Liv than anyone else but apart from a few comments initially, they were all getting along as best he could expect.

“Not yet.” Aaron tells her, ignoring the slight annoyance that crosses her face.

“You always go up to Wishing Well, love. Lisa’s expecting you.”

“We can if you want, we haven’t made plans.” Robert tells him, hand resting against his shoulder blade. He’d liked it, the first time being part of a proper family again, being made to feel welcome for the first time really since his Mum had died. “I’m not singing though.”

“Why don’t we just go for tea?” Liv pipes up from where she’s parked herself at a table, eyes not leaving her phone screen. Aaron brightens immediately.

“That’s a great idea, Liv. Robert?”

“You offering to cook dinner?” He can’t help but tease the girl. She just raises an eyebrow at him, making him laugh. “That’s what you want?” He knows Aaron, there’s something he’s not saying.

“It’s our first proper Christmas as a family in our home. That’s what I want. Not with everyone else there passing comment or whatever. Just us.” Robert nods, that sounds like the best idea he’s ever heard. He turns to Chas but she’s heard and strangely she’s smiling, almost proudly.

“You best make a shopping list then. I take it I’m cooking.”

“You’re not doing everything. Liv and I will help, won’t we Liv?” He sits beside her and pokes her. “Well I will anyway. It’s going to be fun.”

*****

Fun isn’t quite how Robert would put it. He’s dragging himself back to bed after putting the turkey in the oven, Aaron not even stirring when he got up. He gets past Liv’s room as quietly as he can, not wanting to wake her up any earlier than necessary, quite fancying a bit of a lie in with Aaron before getting up again. He’s still sleeping when he climbs back into bed and he can’t help but slide his cold feet onto Aaron’s legs.

“Oi!” He pulls away as Aaron tries to kick him. “Merry Christmas grumpy.”

“Mmm, merry Christmas.” He’s sleepy, eyes barely open when he turns over to let Robert press a kiss to his lips. Next thing, Aaron’s wide awake and is rummaging in his bedside drawer. Robert sees a flash of wrapping paper before it’s hidden behind Aaron’s back.

“Thought we were doing presents with Liv?”

“We are, this one is different.” He frowns, watching as Aaron kneels on the bed, taking Robert’s hands in his own. “I…we said we’d go slow, take our time. I was scared, of lots of things, being hurt again, hurting you. I don’t want to go slow any more. I want you to call me Mr Sugden again, I want to be your husband again.”

“It’s not…you know when I went to the party, what I said? It’s not because of that, because if it is…I don’t need you to rush anything for me.” That’s the last thing he wants because it’ll just end in tears if they do that he knows that.

“No…well not entirely. That just made me see that I didn’t want to wait any longer. I don’t need to because I’m not going to change my mind. You’re here and we’re together and I want that forever. So, Robert Sugden, will you marry me…again. Properly this time?” He’s actually speechless, just staring. He’d never expected this, thought it would take months if not longer for them to be near that point. “Robert, say something. If you don’t want to…”

“No I do, of course I do.”

“You going to open your present then?” He does, and there’s Aaron’s ring that he’s somehow managed to get without Robert noticing it being gone from his drawer, and nestled either side are two matching narrow bands. “We don’t have to wear them all the time, but I am never taking this one off again, not even to get married so…”

“And you call me soft?” He fumbles with it as he slides the familiar band onto Aaron’s finger. “Perfect. Though I’m not sure my present is going to compare.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He drags Aaron towards him, kissing him softly, trying to convey just how happy he is. “How long do you reckon we’ve got until Liv gets up?”

#Robron #robron fanfiction #aaron x robert #emmerdale

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